


Reclaiming Normal

by CubbieGirl1723, Marshmellow Bobcat (MellowBobcat)



Series: This Is Us [1]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars - Freeform, Season 2, Season 2 Fix-It, fix-it jesus, team detecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-03-26 12:10:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 112,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19005520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CubbieGirl1723/pseuds/CubbieGirl1723, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowBobcat/pseuds/Marshmellow%20Bobcat
Summary: Normal girls are supposed to have typical jobs and want nice guys. Nice, normal guys probably don't burn down community pools or live in luxury hotel suites.But when you’re framed for murdering gang members, school buses mysteriously crash, and bodies wash up on shore with your name written on them, it's time to create your own definition of normal.A Season 2 Fix-it fic.





	1. No Flowers Grow Here

 

* * *

 

“You’ve reached Logan Echolls with today’s inspirational message. ‘Normality is a paved road: it’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.’ Vincent Van Gogh”

 

* * *

 

VERONICA: May 2005

“Hey, Veronica.” Leo’s voice is gentle and he’s clearly pained to be bothering her so late at night—or is it early in the morning? She’s not sure anymore.

“I’m looking for Logan Echolls. Saw his SUV parked out front. I know he’s here. Uh, this would be better for everyone if…”

Veronica sighs and opens the apartment door wider, revealing Logan, bruised and battered, laying on her couch. Leo drops his head guiltily, and then glances up at her. It’s obvious when he catches sight of the scrape on her cheek and he reaches out, tenderly placing his hand on her neck to inspect it more closely. She can practically feel the compassion oozing out of him and she knows as hard as this is, he’s only doing his job. She can’t hold that against him, as much as she might want to. He caresses her neck and makes his way over to the couch, reciting the standard Miranda rights. Sagging against the doorframe, she can’t watch, utterly bone-weary and drained. 

Leo doesn’t handcuff Logan; she’s thankful for that small mercy, at least. It’s not like he’s a flight risk in his current condition. Leo leads him by the shoulder across the small space and she can’t believe Logan has to endure more on this hellish night.

“Leo, please.” Her voice sounds rusty but her eyes are clear as Leo halts in the doorway. She places her hand on Logan’s forearm and he finally meets her stare. He gulps and she can tell he’s fighting back tears.

“You’re going to get through this.” She pushes up on her tiptoes and brushes her lips gently across his, briefly tasting blood. She gazes at him firmly, willing him to believe her, to hold onto this thread of hope—even if nothing in this moment is okay.

Logan nods once, squaring his shoulders, and follows Leo out.

The door doesn’t slam shut behind them. It closes softly, with a tiny snick. It doesn’t echo or reverberate—but it may as well have with the finality it conveys.

Veronica’s legs give out under her and she slumps to the floor, leaning against the door and feeling the cool steel beneath her fingertips. She takes deep, gasping breaths and tries to calm her racing heart. She wants to cry but she’s empty, barren inside.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, staring at the stripes on her dad’s armchair. She startles violently, bumping the back of her head on the door, when Backup licks her scraped cheek. She didn’t even hear him approach.

“Hey, boy.” She wraps her arms around his neck and buries her fingers in his ruff, grateful for his presence anchoring her here. She lets him lick her face, which she usually finds disgusting, because it’s better than being alone. 

Using his collar, Veronica levers herself to her feet and stumbles across the kitchen, down the hallway to her room. Normally she wouldn’t let the dog onto her bed—especially after his toenails popped her waterbed—but nothing about tonight is normal. When he curls up on top of her feet, she just pats his head and lays down, staring at the ceiling and doing her best to think about nothing as she watches the room gradually lighten with the sunrise.

Hours later—she’s not sure if she slept or not—Backup nudges her and she rolls out of bed, heading to the front door and clipping his leash onto his collar.

_ It’s time to go, Veronica, whether you’re ready or not. There are dogs to be walked, injured fathers to visit, and new crimes to be solved. Just another normal day in Neptune. _

 

* * *

LOGAN: Summer 2005

Unfortunately, a normal day in Neptune is just another shitty day in the life of Logan Echolls. Over the summer he tries to be everything she says she needs. Good, nice, normal. But their relationship was forged in darkness,  _ he _ was born into the black, and he doesn’t know how to be anything else. Any innate goodness he saves for her, gives to her, but it’s not enough. Being good to her, loving her, doesn’t mean he’s not hurting her...that he’s not scaring her with his choices.

The PCHers shoot out his car window, while she’s in the fucking car with him, and he knows he has to do  _ something. _ Involving Veronica is where he draws the line. He feels helpless when all he wants to do is protect her. Somebody has to do it. The only reliable parent in their lives is Keith Mars, and the man is never here. He plans an overnight surf trip to Mexico with Dick, and tells himself he’s doing the right thing.

Once they check into their hotel, Logan convinces Dick to go to the cantina where Sean bought his drugs last year. He waits until his predictable best friend is a couple of shots (and several drinks) in, then he calmly walks a few stools down to talk to the bartender. She’s young and pretty, but her demeanor is bored and her eyes are hard. In carefully practiced Spanish, he asks where he can buy a gun. She searches Logan’s sober gaze, her head tilts and her face softens.

She regards Dick. “You kill your friend?” Her slight accent is thick with understanding.

Following her gaze, he sees Dick clumsily trying to climb on top of the bar, yelling “COYOTE UGLY, BABY!” while two short, stocky waiters attempt to pull him down. Turning back to the bartender he replies, “Sadly, no. He’s my ride.”

She nods once. “I still help.”

The bartender makes a call and just like magic Logan gets a gun, bullets, and a silencer in the back alley; all while Dick is singing karaoke inside. Logan is almost sad to miss Dick’s performance. He’s sung karaoke in front of Logan before, of course, but never at a bar with no sound system, no microphone, and no karaoke machine.

The next day Logan sweats, and Dick sleeps, through Customs, and...that’s it. He has a weapon and a yard big enough to set up target drills. Every night he holds the gun steady and aims for center mass. And it feels good. It feels like he actually has some fucking control for once in his life… until Veronica finds the gun in his glove compartment. 

She yells, she cries, she tells him he’s going to get himself killed. Logan can’t seem to make her understand he did this for her, for them. To protect them. He doesn’t realize until it’s too late, that embracing the dark just makes him another person she’s more apt to lose. So she dumps him, and then runs off to live out her teenage dream fantasy with Duncan fucking Kane.

* * *

TWO MONTHS LATER 

Logan worries a permission slip between his fingers as he sits outside of Principal Clemmons’ office. Ms. Dumass—the bright and shiny new Journalism teacher—is taking students to tour Shark Field tomorrow, and apparently the school cares more about parental approval than he does.

Bored, bouncing his right foot up and down he glances around for something to entertain him and spies the school’s receptionist taking furtive peeks at him over her file folders. Excellent.

 _"_ Good morning, Ms. Arnold! Don’t you look radiant today?” He gives her his most practiced, charismatic smile.

“Good Morning, Mr. Echolls.” She glances away quickly, flustered, and he can tell she’s trying to pretend she’s not affected by his charm.

“How is my favorite girl on this lovely morning?”

“I’m fine, young man.” She titters.

Logan smirks. Between Ms. Arnold and Veronica Mars, his entire record for Spring semester of Junior year was spotless. Not one tardy mark.

The crackle of Ms. Arnold’s intercom interrupts his fun. “I’m ready for Mr. Echolls now.”

“You go right in, dear.”

Giving her a cheeky finger wave and a wink, he heads into Mr. Clemmons’ office.

“Sir.” He seats himself and leaves the door open. This probably isn’t going to go well and it wouldn’t hurt to garner a little sympathy from his most helpful office worker.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Echolls?”

“Well, sir, I’d love to join my fellow classmates on this year’s Journalism field trip, but unfortunately, I don’t have any parents to sign my permission slip. My mother died last year.”

“Isn’t your father out on bail?”

Logan’s mouth drops open and he has to shake his head to clear it.

_ “ _ I don’t know if you’ve heard, sir, but my father murdered my ex-girlfriend and tried to murder my… other ex-girlfriend.” Logan tries his best to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “We don’t see much of each other,” he adds helpfully.

“Yes, yes.” Mr. Clemmons waves his hand in the air as if this information is immaterial.

Logan blinks at the dismissive tone as Clemmons continues. “I suppose we can make an exception for you just this once, Mr. Echolls.”

“Thank you, sir. Your leadership is truly inspired.”

On his way out, Logan detours back to Ms. Arnold’s desk, hoping for a sympathy-inspired hall pass, but she’s on the phone, soothing some worried parent’s ruffled feathers.

“Of course,” She says as he leaves. “I just thought you should know. You’re one of Neptune’s most dedicated parents.”

_ Imagine that. A parent in Neptune who cares. Must be nice. _

* * *

The morning of the field trip Logan eyes the school bus suspiciously. He’s never been on one, and he thinks he’s better for it. But now, here he is walking towards the yellow monstrosity. As if it could ever hope to match his baby’s beauty. He thinks longingly of the Xterra.

He doesn’t even know why he’s going on this trip. It’s not required, and if he wants to get out of class he can ditch. But his whole Journalism class is going. And Veronica likes baseball. Not that he’s going on the trip to see her. But she  _ does _ like baseball. So, she’ll probably be on the trip, right? And the Donut hates baseball, so he’ll probably stay home. Not that it matters.

Logan is almost at the bus door when he spots Veronica and Duncan greeting each other, completely oblivious to his presence. He’s never liked being ignored.

Bypassing the door, he drapes himself insolently against the side of the yellow mammoth.

“Ah, young love.”

Duncan and Veronica grasp hands as they approach and Logan’s stomach rolls. Duncan volleys a thinly veiled search for why Logan is attending this school sponsored form of torture. Obviously Duncan and Veronica are attending, and Logan has suddenly lost all interest. Logan assures him he’s not accompanying them. There’s an awkward moment and Veronica does what she does best— runs.

“Let's just get on the bus.” She avoids looking at Logan, but her voice… there is something about her voice that makes his heart twist.

“Hey, wait.” He positions himself in front of her. All he wants is some sign that they mattered. That _he_ matters. That’s it. But when her eyes meet his, the words tumble out of their volition. “I’m gonna miss you.”

_ Fuck. _

No one responds. Duncan and Veronica hurry past him, and climb on the bus.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s gonna miss her? Did he actually just say that? What the hell? _

That’s it. He can’t do this anymore. He needs to scrub Veronica Mars from his brain. Dick and Beaver’s nubile new stepmommy made it abundantly clear she’s always available to meet any needs that might...arise. He’s going to take her up on that offer. Now.

If anyone asks, he’ll tell them he was too sick to attend the field trip. It wouldn’t be a lie. He’s well and truly nauseous now.

* * *

VERONICA

_ He’s gonna miss her? What the hell, Logan? _ Is he trying to make her feel guilty? As he walks away from the bus, though, without his usual cocky bravado, and she does experience a pang of...something. Better not dwell on it too long.

A student she doesn’t know brushes past her, and she turns to Duncan in the bus aisle behind her and grabs his hand, entwining their fingers and plastering an extra-perky smile on her face. She tugs him down into a blue vinyl seat and tries to keep her mind focused on Duncan. Her boyfriend. The boy she definitely wants to be with. She’s not letting her mind drift back to this summer with Logan...not at all.

She runs her thumb over Duncan’s knuckles and tries not to think about Logan’s hands. They are so freaking big. His whole body dwarfs hers but it’s not intimidating; she felt absolutely cherished when he held her hand or put his arm around her. She loved the way he caressed her face. How a simple brush of her cheekbone could make her shiver.

_ Stop it, Veronica. You’re with Duncan now. Nice, sweet Duncan. Normal girls are supposed to want nice guys. Sure, there’s no fireworks when he holds your hand, but no one gets burned this way. _

Fireworks…. She had definitely felt fireworks in the back of Logan’s Xterra this summer. With just one kiss, her insides would turn to jelly and that spot between her thighs would throb. Part of her regretted not pushing harder and convincing Logan to sleep with her this summer. She had definitely wanted to, but he had always been the one to put on the breaks. Not because he didn’t want her—the evidence of that was always perfectly apparent, especially if she was straddling his lap the way she liked.

No, whenever she made a grab for his zipper, he never made her feel bad about it, just always said he wasn’t ready. Those months were probably the longest he had gone without sex in years and while she always huffed at him and rolled her eyes, she secretly thought it was sweet he was being so careful with her. And then he would distract her with his lips on her neck or his fingers stroking her flesh and she forgot to protest. Logan could make her forget her damn name.

Just like she had forgotten she isn’t supposed to be thinking about him as she sits silently next to Duncan, holding his hand. Duncan, who doesn’t burn down pools. Duncan, who doesn’t own a gun. Duncan, who doesn’t throw lamps. Duncan, who doesn’t break hearts.

Because for all that Logan is acting like he was the one who was wronged and broken-hearted (‘ _ I’m gonna miss you’?)  _ over the end of their fleeting relationship, he had betrayed her first. She couldn’t handle losing him in the war he had declared against the PCHers. Not after Lilly. Not after her mom. Not after all those weeks she spent visiting her dad in the hospital.

No, she definitely needs a normal, dependable boyfriend. One who won’t provoke a biker gang and doesn’t get them shot at. One who won’t get caught in the crosshairs of the class war that has come to Neptune. Maybe she used to be an adrenaline junky, the kind of girl who confronted PCHers, corrupt DEA agents, drug dealers, and murderers. But that was old Veronica. Vengeful Veronica. She’s different now.

Besides, what did that ever get her? Sure, she solved Lilly’s murder, but at what cost? She just wants everything to go back to how it was before. She wants to be that innocent girl again, only worried about what dress to wear to Homecoming and what color to paint her nails.

Focusing on the black polish currently adorning her nails, she wonders what Lilly would say about it. ‘ _Going goth, Veronica Mars? Embracing your darker side?’_ _At least it’s not pink. Lilly always told her she was too pastel, anyway._

Smiling to herself, she glances around the bus and catches sight of the new girl. With her pale skin and black hair she could be a little bit goth but nothing about the rest of her perky, pink outfit is, so it’s obviously her natural coloring. Maybe Dick was talking to her earlier and she can get the scoop out of him?

She glances in the seat behind her to ask him about the new girl but Beaver is sitting there alone, gazing pensively out the window as the scenery rolls past.

Veronica spots Dick sitting across the aisle a few rows behind the girl she doesn’t know. She gives Duncan’s hand a squeeze.

“Be right back,” she tells him with a small smile, crossing to go sit behind the new student.

“Hi. I’m Veronica,” she says, tapping her on the shoulder.

“Oh, hi!” the girl gushes. “I’m Gia, Gia Goodman? I’m new to Neptune this year?” The girl has an interesting habit of raising her voice at the end of her sentences so it sounds like she’s asking a question. Veronica firmly doesn’t let herself think about what Lilly would say if she were here. It would certainly not be kind. And part of making a fresh start this year is being friendlier.  _ That’s normal, right? _

“Well, welcome.” Veronica tries to put a nice smile on her face and listen as the girl starts to drone on and on about how Neptune is different from her old school and gives her an in-depth list of the pros and cons of each.

“The kids at my old school were really snobby but here everyone seems more real, ya know?” Gia says. Veronica nods and that seems to be all the encouragement she needs to keep prattling.

She lets her mind drift until Dick’s braying laugh brings her back to the present.  _ What is he up to?  _ Bored and curious, she leans back in her seat to eavesdrop on his conversation.

“Hey, Betina.” His voice is low and seductive.  _ Ick. _ “You got plans tonight?”

Veronica glances surreptitiously over her shoulder. She doesn’t know Betina, the leggy brunette flirting with Dick. She’s wearing a miniscule flouncy skirt and a tight, rhinestone-encrusted top, revealing a massive expanse of cleavage. Just the thing to capture Dick’s attention. She seems to be enamored with him, so Veronica suspects she and Betina aren’t destined to be bosom buddies.

Betina giggles. “No, I’m free, if you’re not busy…”

“Yeah, I could come over,” Dick agrees eagerly.

“Or we could go out?” Betina offers, twirling a strand of hair around her finger and smacking her gum.

Dick’s tone turns whiny. “Oh, Bets, you know the Dickmeister does his best work at home.”

Veronica gags on Dick’s words—internally—and nods encouragingly at Gia, who’s still talking to her and doesn’t seem to notice her lack of enthusiasm about whatever the subject is now. Betina giggles again and tells Dick exactly what she’d like to do to certain parts of his anatomy tonight.  _ So gross. What could this girl possibly see in Dick? _

“No, let’s go out,” Betina says, “and I promise I’ll make it worth your while…” her voice trails off.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Dick’s voice has turned hesitant. “I just remembered my dad is making us do something with my new step-mom. But I can come over later.”

“Or I can go to your house. I could just ride with you when we get back to school. I don’t care.”

Betina might say she doesn’t care, but with the way she’s pushing this, Veronica bets she does care. A whole lot.

“You know what, we can talk about it later.” Dick is dismissive but when Veronica glances back again at them, Betina nods her head vigorously. Then Betina’s head disappears and there’s the distinct sound of a zipper being lowered.

_ Oh, gross.  _ Trying not to throw up in her mouth, Veronica wishes fleetingly that Logan was there to make fun of Dick with her. Well, the plus side is she now has some information to file away about Dick and Betina for later.  _ You never know when a little blackmail could come in handy. And it’s a solid bet they’d both be willing to sell out pretty easily. _

She turns back to Gia, cutting her off mid-sentence. _Cross ‘be friendly’_ _off my list of resolutions. It’s not worth it. “_ Well, it’s been...informative...chatting with you. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

She slips back into the seat she was sharing with Duncan, only to find he’s fallen asleep with his head resting on the window. She sighs, and tries to convince herself again that nice and normal is what she wants. Although she’s pretty sure Logan would have found a myriad of interesting and entertaining ways to keep them both occupied if he were here. 

_ It’s time to get over him, Veronica. Move on. You’re with Duncan now. This is what you’ve always wanted. _

* * *

“Hey.” Dick interrupts her scintillating conversation with Duncan, putting an arm around each of their shoulders. “We’re not taking that stank-ass bus back to Neptune. My dad’s sending a limo.” He turns to Duncan. “Would you and your girlfriend, who’s quick wit I find enchanting, like to take a trip back in style?”

He gives her a smarmy look and she shoots him a death glare. She doesn’t remember the bus smelling particularly bad; more like Dick doesn’t want any more pressure from his booty buddy to bring their relationship out in the open.

Her glare morphs into a smirks as she delights once again in knowing this little secret. She might not be working for her dad anymore but collecting information never hurt anyone.

Duncan agrees eagerly with Dick’s plan but once Veronica catches sight of Meg declining Dick’s offer, a limo ride with the most privileged 09ers no longer sounds fun. She explains she needs to try to talk to Meg one last time and even if Duncan doesn’t understand, he doesn’t fight it or try to talk her out of it.

_ There, Veronica. Isn’t it nice having a boyfriend who doesn’t always disagree with you? Life is easier this way. _

She doesn’t let herself think about how disagreements with Logan always kind of turned her on.

Duncan’s probably right, she doesn’t owe Meg anything. But she still remembers the time Meg loaned her a spare cheerleading outfit when her clothes were in the toilet, and how Meg saved her from Madison’s trip to the dentist. Not to mention it was nice having a girlfriend again. Wallace’s idea of ‘getting ready for a dance’ is taking a shower.  _ When you can count your true friends on one hand, you can’t let them go easily. _ Part of her knows, deep down, Meg’s worth fifty Duncans. She hates he’s come between them and squares her shoulders, determined to fix things between herself and Meg once and for all.

“Go invite the new girl, Dick. I have someone I need to talk to on the bus.”

She tries to move past them, but Dick’s still talking. “Already thought of that, Ronnie, ‘cause she’s hot. But she’s riding home with her dad.”

Dick gestures at Woody Goodman, owner of the Sharks, standing next to his daughter. 

“Thanks for that extra-special glimpse into her life, Dick.” Turning to Duncan, she says, “I’ll see you later,” and presses a quick kiss on his cheek. Before she can lose her resolve, she makes her way over to the small group of kids getting on the bus. 

* * *

After her talk with Meg took a turn for the worse, she had almost thought missing the bus at the gas station and catching a ride with Weevil was part of her penance. Now as she stands at the top of a cliff watching the school bus—that she was on a few minutes ago—sink further into the swirling Pacific, she’s not sure.

“Lilly. She saved me,” she mumbles into Duncan’s chest as he crushes her to him. But he doesn’t hear her. Or doesn’t acknowledge her if he does. He’s too busy cradling her face and covering it with kisses.

“Oh my God, Veronica,” he repeats, looking down at her as if he doesn’t believe she’s real and clutching her tightly. His fingers dig into her shoulders. “I thought you were dead. I thought you were on the bus, I thought you went over—I thought you were dead.”

She pats him clumsily, not able to take her eyes off the churning waters below.  _ You should have been on that bus. You should be dead. You would be if it weren’t for—   _

“Meg!” she gasps. “Meg was on the bus! Duncan, we have to—”

“They’ve already called 911, Veronica.” He leads her away from the edge of the cliff, still unwilling to let her go. “There’s nothing more we can do.”

Pulling her face away from his chest she sees the majority of onlookers on their cellphones. She starts frantically searching in her purse. “I need to find my phone, I’ve gotta call my dad,” she mutters as she paws through her belongings.

She sighs in relief when her shaking fingers close around the rectangular shape of her cell phone and quickly hits the ‘2’ button.

“Mars Investigations.” Keith’s voice comes over the line, strong and steady. “This is Mars, speaking.”

“Daddy,” is all she can manage to say before she starts crying. Duncan rubs circles on her back but it barely registers.

“Veronica? Veronica, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His voice escalates with each question so she takes deep, gulping breaths, trying to calm down enough to reassure him.

“Daddy, I’m okay. But the bus—the field trip—” She knows she’s not making any sense but she can’t seem to stop blubbering. 

“Honey, calm down and tell me what’s going on. Please.”

Another deep breath and she’s able to speak again, although her voice is still shaking. “Today was the field trip to Shark Field. The bus back to school—it went off a cliff.”

There’s silence over the line for a long moment.

“How—what—?” her dad sputters.

“I don’t know what happened. But I wasn't on it. I should have been, but—”

“Oh, thank God.” They’re not a particularly religious family but Keith’s tone is reverent. “Thank God,” he repeats. “Veronica, where are you now?”

“I’m still at the scene.” She glances around, notices Duncan’s still hovering at her elbow. Several sheriff’s cars have pulled up to the edge of the cliff, though, blue and red lights flashing, and the doors slam shut as the deputies race over to the mangled metal railing. “Lamb just arrived. I don’t know when I’ll be home,” she gulps again, tears clogging her throat, “but I’m okay.”

“Veronica, I’m coming to get you. I’ll see you as soon as possible.” His voice still sounds emotional and she can’t wait to be enveloped in one of his bear hugs. “Oh, and honey, make sure you call Wallace, Mac, and your other friends before they start to panic.”

_ What other friends?  _ She presses the ‘4’ button on her speed dial to call Wallace before he hears about this from anyone else.

* * *

LOGAN

**  
** Once the idea to take Kendall Casablancas up on her offer to “play” grabs hold, Logan can’t let it go. He sends a text to the number Kendall programmed into his phone, and heads straight to Dick’s house. He needs to act on this decision before he changes his mind. 

He imagines most guys his age look at Kendall and see a hot former Laker Girl. Logan looks at Kendall and thinks about Lilly. 

 

He wonders if this is what it was like between Lilly and Aaron. Did Lilly find Aaron’s number in her phone, even after saying no? Was the cache of sleeping with someone coveted by others a turn on? Or was it the forbidden, illicit nature of the liaison that proved to be too tempting? 

Lilly was no innocent when she and Logan started having sex, but for the most part they figured things out together. Sometimes Lilly would suggest they try something she’d read about or heard about from another girl and he never thought to question her. Now, though, he wonders if her ideas came from one of her other lovers...like his father. And since Logan can’t gouge out his own brain, he tends to avoid that line of thinking, and Kendall altogether.

But today, he’s just going to have to get over it. Kendall is exactly what he needs to get past his little morning slip up. As an added bonus, he knows that once a certain tiny blonde finds out (and she will find out) it will infuriate her. It’s a win-win. She’s so cute when she’s jealous. 

Pulling up to the circular driveway, Logan spots Kendall’s sinuous form leaning against the Casablanca’s front door, waiting. She looks almost as good as he does doing that. And he bets she’s naked under that red silk robe. Oh yeah, he can do this. 

He steers closer and imagines slowly removing her robe, kissing Veronica’s neck the way— _ Shit, no. _

Okay. Forget the robe. Start by running his hands through her blonde— _ “Fuck _ !” He slams his palm against the steering wheel.

He drives past the front door with barely a pause. Cursing all the way down the other side of the driveway, he risks a glance in the rear view mirror, and catches a glimpse of Kendall’s face, slack with shock. 

Pissed at himself, he heads where he always goes when he’s feeling… anything really. The beach. 

Slamming the the car door shut, he walks across the sand, shoes and all, and plops down a few feet from shore, desperately wishing for a liquid refreshment. No matter what’s going on in his shitty life, the beach always suits his mood—it’s only the beverages that change. 

Happy occasions call for champagne. Beer if he wants to relax. Whiskey if he’s morose. Tequila if he’s feeling destructive. He hasn’t had champagne since last summer. Not since he and Veronica…and there it is again. 

Why does it always come back to Veronica fucking Mars? He can’t even sit on  _ his _ beach without obsessing over her. Hell, he couldn’t even get it up for Kendall today. When did his body start obeying Veronica and not him? It’s ridiculous. How could she affect him so much? They never even had sex. Which is his own fault. He wanted to be more than just some guy looking to get in her pants. He thought it would give them a deeper connection. Stupid him. 

He’s drawn out of us his ruminating by a text message alert. Grateful for the distraction, he checks the screen. It’s...Madison Sinclair. What is it with chicks putting their numbers in his phone? Flipping the cell open he reads:

**“Where r u guys? I can’t reach Dick. We were supposed to meet up after ur stupid field trip. It’s been hours. Why did he even go with u? I called his house but his skank of a step mom lol hasn’t heard from him. U kno how flakey he ca**

And reads:

**n b. I figured he was probably w. u do u want to meet up @ Shelly’s w us? She’s still pissed Duncan so he prob won’t b there. U guys aren’t talking right? U should come, even if Dick flakes.”**

And reads:

**“Or maybe we can ditch Shelly’s & head 2 Amy’s or something. That way don’t have 2 listen 2 Shelly whine ab Duncan all day lol”**

_ Does she… does she think they’re friends? What part of him constantly ignoring her makes her think they’re friends? _ Rather than encourage her, he calls Dick and leaves a voicemail.

“Hey man, your girl—the one you acknowledge in public— is looking for you. Call her so she stops bothering me. Talk later.” 

His phone chimes again indicating a fourth text, but this time he ignores it. Dick can deal with Madison, he did his part. The only other thing he can do is go to Dick’s house to find him, and that’s not happening. Kendall might gut him with her perfectly manicured fingernails. 

He spends another half hour listening to the waves before checking if he has cash on him. If you’re under 21 in Neptune and don’t want to raid your parents liquor cabinet, you need cash and a trip to Liquor is Quicker in the ‘03. It’s shaping up to be a whiskey kind of evening. 

He turns on the car, but instead of his usual music there’s a news bulletin. 

“....Neptune High School Bus Crashed on the way home from a trip to Shark Field. There are no known survivors. The names of the deceased will be held until the families are notified. Stay tuned for minute by minute coverage.” 

His heart stops.  _ No. There’s no way.  _ But he knows she got on the bus. He saw her. 

On autopilot he reaches for his phone to call her, and notices the missed text. Not Madison after all. It’s from a number he doesn’t recognize.  _ Maybe Veronica lost her phone.  _

**“Logan this is Wallace. Have you heard from Veronica?”**

Fuck. Just… fuck all of this. He’s been trying so hard. To get through the day. To pretend his heart isn’t broken and his life isn’t a train wreck. To convince himself he’s worth more than bruises, lies, and abandonment. But what’s the point? What’s the fucking point when everyone who matters dies? He’s done. He can let the ocean take him…paddle out as far as he can go, and drift. He manages to lose everyone he loves with no effort, let’s see if he can go the same way. 

His phone chimes again, but the text is too blurry to read. He digs his palms into his eyes and tries again. It’s from the same number.  _ Wallace.  _

**She’s fine.**

She’s fine. Logan’s leans his head on the steering wheel and his body starts trembling. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. The Dangers of Caring

 

* * *

 

**“You’ve reached Logan Echolls with today’s message. ‘We are afraid to care too much, for fear that the other person does not care at all.’ Eleanor Roosevelt”**

* * *

 

** VERONICA **

“You’ve been listening to Radiohead, haven’t you? That’s it. I’m putting you on a strict Nelly diet.” Duncan tries to put his arm around Veronica but she shrugs him off.

At Duncan’s joking words, everything inside her—all her anger and fear—boils over.

How dare he try to talk her out of the way she’s feeling? What’s wrong with him? He rode on that bus, stood there at the edge of the cliff, even dated Meg for months, and he can move on and be happy so easily? Does he even care that his ex-girlfriend is in a coma? Does all of it mean nothing to him? It’s like he thinks that because he doesn’t feel the same way, her feelings aren’t valid. Why can’t he let her be sad, just hold her and understand where she’s coming from?

_Just play happier music, Veronica. Obviously that will solve all your problems._

“And how should I be feeling? Happy, like you?” Veronica’s voice is choked with tears as she confronts him in the hallway outside Mrs. Hauser’s health class.

Duncan’s nostrils flare in anger, he throws up his hands and stalks away from her. She sighs in frustration and schools her features, face a stony mask. She had forgotten how absolutely unsatisfying he is to fight with—he treats her like she’s a hysterical female, some lesser species, to be avoided until she can engage in a rational discussion with him and admit that he, of course, is right. He’s so damn condescending, it makes her want to punch something or slam another locker shut.

_Because that’s what you do when you’re angry. You go toe-to-toe, challenging each other, crowding each other’s personal space until your heaving chests touch and you can taste each other’s breath—Stop it, Veronica. Now you do sound like a hysterical female. This isn’t a Harlequin romance novel, and Duncan’s not Logan. Just…stop it._

The bell rings and she turns, entering the classroom behind her, only to be met with blank, unfamiliar faces.

“Veronica, are you lost?” Mrs. Hauser, bitter as ever, quips sarcastically. She glances pointedly at her watch. “And tardy, too. Tsk, tsk.”

Huffing out a frustrated breath, Veronica spins on her heel and rushes back into the hallway. She wants to ditch her next class, but it’s calculus and there’s a quiz. Growling, she enjoys giving in a bit to her frustrations. Her clunky boots make a satisfying sound as she stomps through the halls.

Anger feels better than guilt or sadness. She cultivates it, lets the familiar emotion grow and burn until it fills her, fueling her and helping her regain her equilibrium. She kicks a candy wrapper out of her way, imagining it’s Duncan’s head. _Ah, there we go. That feels more normal._

* * *

 

After the school day ends, Veronica heads to the parking lot and waits, leaning up against Duncan’s silver Mercedes SUV as the sun warms her face. She didn’t sit with Duncan at lunch; instead, she hid out in the library where she could get some space and think. And he didn’t come find her.

 _Having a near-death experience is certainly making you rethink your life choices, Veronica_ . After being pissed at him all day, she’s not sure she wants to apologize to Duncan and tell him he’s right and she’s wrong. Again. _If time is precious, is it really fair—to either of you—to spend it with someone just because of the memories you share?_

Across the parking lot, Duncan catches sight of her and looks surprised as he heads in her direction.

“I suck.” He makes a wry face, which he probably thinks is apologetic. “I’m sorry, Veronica. I was just trying to make you feel better. I’m struggling with all this, too.”

 _Really?_ she thinks reflexively, before taking a deep breath. That’s not entirely fair. He probably is struggling, but he’s definitely handling things differently than she is and they aren’t on the same page anymore.

“Yeah…” She’s hesitant, not sure how to start what she needs to say. “Here’s the thing, Duncan.” Clearing her throat, she twists her hands together. “I just—I’m having a hard time with the bus crash. I need some time—some space—to figure things out for a while.”

Duncan opens his mouth but nothing comes out for a long moment. Then his eyes narrow. “Wait, are you breaking up with me?”

She wasn’t sure if she was breaking up with him until he asked, but it’s as if a giant weight lifts off her chest at his words. Too much has happened for her to go back and be the girl Duncan used to know.

“We were practically babies when we started dating, Duncan. _Babies_ ,” she stresses. “A lot has changed since then and I just...I don’t think we really fit together anymore.”

“I can’t believe this!” He raises his voice, finally displaying some passion but it’s too little too late. People glance at them across the parking lot as the student body continues streaming out of the school.

“Look, it’s probably my fault. I should have known—I liked that girl, Duncan, the girl I was when we dated. I liked the idea of going back and being her again.” She’s earnest, trying to explain herself to him and pleating the strap on her bag between her fingers. “But it wasn’t fair to you and I should have said no when you asked me out at work. I was in a vulnerable place after everything this summer...and I’m sorry.”

Duncan just shakes his head, teeth clenched, and pushes past her to get to his car.

“I can’t believe I was your rebound guy. Move, please.” His words are cold.

_Looks like he’s not ready for the ‘we can be friends’ stage yet._

Veronica shrugs philosophically and makes her way across the parking lot to her black LeBaron. As she climbs into the driver’s seat and turns the key in the ignition, she takes stock of her emotions.

After she broke up with Logan two months ago, she desired nothing more than ice cream, sad music, and hiding out in her bedroom. She wouldn’t admit it to her dad, but she had snuck in some good cry-fests on the beach with Backup and in the shower. She was mad at Logan, yeah, and she tried to channel that, but sometimes she was overwhelmed with disappointment that she couldn’t seem to make things work between them. She genuinely liked Logan and liked spending time with him. They didn’t date for long, but she knew after those three months—even if she never said it aloud—she was falling for him. Based on the way he was still acting, he obviously didn’t take their break up all that well, either. It was definitely harder on her than she let on.

But now...after dumping Duncan, she feels...free. She can finally shut the door on her relationship with him and leave it in the past where it belongs. He was more than a rebound guy, but she had been holding on too tightly to something that was gone. Finally admitting it feels liberating.

She puts on her sunglasses, flips on the radio, checks the rear view mirror, and pulls out of the parking lot, humming along with the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Now that she doesn’t have Duncan to worry about, she can head over to Jessie’s house and focus on learning more about her dad and the bus crash. She might have taken this case initially to keep Jessie from starting a fight in the girls bathroom but now she wants to find answers for her classmate. If her dad had been involved in the bus crash, she wouldn’t rest until she knew what had happened; Ed Doyle and his family deserve the same.

* * *

** LOGAN **

Logan has taken to reading the two words that changed his life over and over again. **She’s fine.**

When she doesn’t answer his calls. **She’s fine.** When he sits outside of her apartment for hours to catch a glimpse of her, whole. **She’s fine.** Even now, when she turns her back on him in the hallway at school. **She’s fine.**

His phone vibrates in his hand and the words disappear, replaced by **Asshole.** Logan takes a deep breath and reminds himself **she’s fine** , before answering.

“Hi, Pops.” Logan ducks into the nearest boys bathroom. The last time his father called him directly it was to tell him he’d made bail and was moving back home. It wasn’t exactly a quiet discussion.

“Logan… I heard about the bus crash. Are you okay?”

_Is it acting if you believe your own bullshit?_

“Oh, I'm fine. Just, you know, still working through how you bashed my girlfriend’s skull in.”

“I've told you, I made an unforgivable mistake, but I’m not a murderer. Come back home, son.”

Logan stares at himself in the mirror, searching his own features. For what, he’s not sure. “I prefer not to spend my time at Casa de Killer. I’m fine at The Grand.”

“Logan, son, I didn’t kill Lilly. You have to know that.” Aaron pleas.

“And Veronica? Remember that time you locked her in a fridge and set her on fire?”

“I-I snapped. I think—“

Logan’s eyes harden and he spins away from his reflection. “Thinking doesn’t seem to be part of your repertoire.”

“You don’t believe me.” Logan can practically hear Aaron’s shoulders sag through the phone. _Maybe his Oscar win wasn’t so far fetched._ “Why should a jury believe me?”

“They shouldn’t, and they won’t. I have the scars to prove who you really are. If you beat on your own son, why wouldn’t you hesitate to bash a girl’s head in?”

“Logan—“

“You know what, let’s do this through lawyers from now on. Have your people call mine.”

He ends the call on Aaron’s protest. Composing himself, he exits the bathroom and spies an angry looking Donut slamming his locker.

Drained, Logan attempts to walk by unnoticed, but to no avail. To be fair, he is hard to ignore.

“I bet you’re happy now.”

Only one person works Duncan up to locker-shaking levels, and if Veronica pissed Duncan off then yes, he’s very happy indeed. “Ecstatic.”

“Veronica won’t go back to you, you know.”

Logan locks his jaw so his mouth doesn’t drop open. They must have broken up. He ruthlessly stomps down the joy that feels a little like hope, and tilts his head.

“How much easier would your life be if she were indifferent to me?”

With a growl Duncan pushes past Logan. 

“Fuck this, I’m going home.” Logan mutters to himself. He’s almost to the parking lot when he’s stopped by a hand on his arm. His shoulders relax when he sees it’s Dick.

 “Ditching?”

 “I’m taking a mental health day.”

 “Wanna come over? I’ve got the new Resident Evil and a bottle of Loch Nevin.”

 Grateful for his steady, uncomplicated friend and the distraction he offers, Logan readily agrees to meet at Dick’s house. He only remembers Kendall, with her creeping hands and shocked face, when he is once again making his way up the circular driveway. _Shit._

Logan manages to sneak up to Dick’s room without incident. However, too much scotch means he needs to take a bathroom break a couple of hours later. He hurries through his business, but on the way back Kendall finds him in the hall.

“Logan.” Kendall purrs. “You look a little lost. Are you looking for a snack?” He’s sure she’s going for siren, but all he sees is a succubus. _At least she’s not trying to claw his eyes out. She bounces back quick._ He looks over her shoulder to Dick’s bedroom door, mapping out an escape.

He’s going to have to make a run for it. Before he can duck past her, Mr. Casablancas calls out from behind him. “Logan! I hope Mrs. Casablancas isn’t bothering you.”

Dick Senior buddies up next to him, companionably tossing an arm around his shoulders.

“Dick Junior and I are going over to the firing range tomorrow. Interest you in a little target practice?” His tone is mellow, but for some reason it still makes Logan jumpy. Maybe it’s the way the current Mrs. Casablancas is eyeing him. He hasn’t done anything wrong, but dads never seem to believe that.

“Oh, as long as I'm not the target.” _When in doubt, quip._

Thankfully, Dick Sr. bypasses that without comment. “You ever shoot before, Logan?”

Logan thinks back to the summer, to the dark wake of shattered lamps and misguided attempts at protection.

“No, Sir,” he replies, and wishes it was true.

* * *

**VERONICA**

Veronica’s not sure Jessie is going to like the answers that she has for her about her dad. Ed Doyle didn’t commit suicide and take five other people with him...but he was having an affair with one of their neighbors. She hopes that orchestrating a meeting between Jessie and Carla, Ed’s mistress, was the right call. _What are the odds of this escalating into a fistfight at Java the Hut?_

But Jessie seems willing to listen to Carla, and her honest confession and deep regrets stop Veronica in her tracks.

 _‘I never really got to be with the man I loved.’_ The words echo in Veronica’s mind as the bustle of people in the coffee shop continues around her. Over the hiss of the espresso machine and the jangle of the cash register, those words continue to resonate. She can’t keep them out, push them down anymore.

A charge goes up her spine, a moment of epiphany. It hits her. _Logan._

 _Wait, what? Why are you thinking of Logan right now? You’ve moved on, Veronica._ But she can’t get him out of her head. Just like the weight that lifted off her shoulders after breaking up with Duncan, it’s clear what she wants—who she wants. _Logan_.  

Jessie hesitantly sits down to talk with Carla, and Veronica pats her awkwardly on the shoulder, whispering, “I have to go.”

She gets in her LeBarron, head still spinning with her revelation, she drives the familiar route without thinking about it and pulls into a parking spot at Dog Beach, staring vacantly out the windshield at the crashing waves.

Grabbing a towel from her back seat, Veronica exits her car and finds a quiet patch of sand where she can watch the waves pound the shoreline and fill her ears with the hypnotic sound. The ocean has always been tied to Logan in her mind—wild, unpredictable, brimming with excitement, utterly exhilarating. On the other hand, Duncan is more like a swimming pool. Fun, of course, but placid. Controlled.

After a near death experience—and not her first, either—shouldn’t she crave safety and security? Duncan should have been exactly what she needed. Why is her head full of Logan? Maybe her thoughts of him drew her to the beach in the first place.

She lets sand trickle through her fingers and watches as the wind blows it away. _Too bad sifting through your feelings isn’t that easy._

With Duncan, she just felt numb. After her rollercoaster of a summer, she craved the Novicane of Duncan. But now...she wants to _feel_ again. And with Logan she feels everything—fear and worry and anger but also joy and contentment deeper than she’s ever known. She can’t hide anything from him; he will strip her bare. But the vulnerability is better than the fake veneer she had adopted with Duncan. Why should she bother with something that’s not good just because it’s something? _Especially when you know the difference_ , _Veronica._

She can’t deny the deep pull Logan has over her. She wants to go to him, throw caution to the wind. She wants to spend hours trading quips, and having ice cream sundae-fueled movie nights. She wants to feel his hands on her again...she shivers at the thought. Life is short, and she needs to let him know that she can’t imagine hers without him in it.

But… she’s not sure if it’s a good idea. There’s a lot she needs to make up for. Dating Logan’s best friend immediately after their breakup couldn’t have made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Then there’s the fact that she didn’t return his calls after the crash...the avoiding him in the halls…because she _knew_ , she knew that if she looked at him too long she’d go running in the “wrong” direction—to him.

_What if...what if he can’t forgive her?_

Veronica lays back on her towel, staring at the sky now streaked with twilight. _How long have you been sitting here, debating with yourself?_ Quite some time if it’s starting to get dark.

She has no right to go to him, no claim on him at all. But she can’t imagine going anywhere else. She can’t go home and pretend like everything is normal. The weight of her needs sits heavy inside her chest. _Don’t let the list of things you want to do before you die turn into a list of regrets, Veronica._

Scooping up her towel, she gets back in her car and heads straight for the Neptune Grand, hoping she doesn’t get pulled over for speeding. It’s not a long drive, not long enough for her to change her mind, at least.

The slam of her car door echos in the parking garage and she hurries to the elevator, hitting the button for the eleventh floor once she’s inside the shiny golden space. She paces back and forth—three tiny strides—until the bell dings, indicating her floor.

Taking a deep breath, she heads to room 1147. Logan had moved out of the Echolls mansion at the end of the summer when Aaron was released on bail. Technically it was after they broke up and keeping tabs on his whereabouts probably wasn’t within the limits of normal, healthy boundaries for ex-girlfriends. At the time she was worried about his safety so she told herself it was okay. Now she’s glad she did.

Before she can overthink it anymore, Veronica knocks on the door to the hotel room.

“Are you lost?” Logan asks sarcastically as he opens the door. He leans against the doorframe and quirks a sardonic brow at her.

She shakes her head and clears her throat. “Can I come in?”

He shrugs in a ‘whatever’ gesture and turns, wandering away but leaving the door open.

“What do you want, Veronica?” he calls to the living room, still not facing her.

“You,” she whispers and closes the door behind her.

He spins to face her, inscrutable, and she gulps.

“I could have died, Logan. I would have died if I had gotten back on that bus. All I keep thinking about is I don’t want to have any regrets and,” her voice breaks, “everything from this summer...I don’t want to regret not being with you anymore.”

His fixed gaze burns through her.

“Are you really done with Duncan?”

She nods her head. _You’re not the only one keeping tabs, Veronica._ “Another thing I don’t want to regret anymore. Logan, he was holding me after the crash, and—I wanted it to be you.”

Logan doesn't hesitate. He moves toward her and crushes her to him, their lips meeting in a fierce embrace. His hands get lost in her hair as he holds her to him and his mouth slants over hers possessively. Their tongues twine together and Veronica grips him tightly, never wanting to let go.

They come up for air and Logan's mouth slides down her neck, trailing kisses along her sensitive skin.

“I don't know what I would have done if anything had happened to you, Veronica,” he says between kisses. His voice is rough. “When I heard about the crash...” He pulls back to look into her eyes. His are dark with emotion.

Veronica grabs his face and gives him another kiss before he can go down that path. She had forgotten how Logan's kisses affect her. Kissing Duncan was pleasant, nice, safe. Kissing Logan is anything but safe. It excites her, lights her up inside, and she craves more of it.

Veronica breaks the kiss and, in one motion, pulls her shirt over her head. “I don't want to wait anymore.”

Logan runs his hands over her stomach and up her ribcage to cup her breasts. “Are you sure?” His voice is hoarse with desire but his gaze is full of questions.

He’s still putting her first, still making sure she’s okay with everything. Even after she broke up with him and went back to Duncan. Because that’s what Logan does, he has always come through for her, taken care of her, even when she didn’t love him enough.

She nods and kicks off her shoes. “I almost died and the biggest regret that popped in my head was I had never done this. With you.”

That, apparently, is all the answer Logan needs. He picks her up, claiming her mouth in another kiss as she wraps her legs around his waist. Stumbling across the room, he bumps into the sofa, before making it to the door of his room. He slams the door closed and maneuvers them over to his bed.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Logan pulls Veronica onto his lap so she’s straddling him. He bends his head to kiss the swell of her breasts that spill out of the cups of her hot pink cotton bra. He slips the straps off her shoulders and skimms his hands along her soft skin there.

Moaning, she throws her head back and leans into him, gripping the nape of his neck and running her fingernails through the short hair.

Logan's hands move to her waist, holding her to him and rubbing slow circles on her lower back as he kisses her. Desire curls in her belly, hot and demanding. She runs her fingers down his neck, over his shoulders and chest and starts to creep them back up under the front of his black t-shirt, lingering on the ridges of his abs and the small patch of hair on his chest. His arousal presses against her thigh through his jeans and makes her throb. Breaking off the kiss, she pulls his shirt off over his head.

Logan flips her over so she’s sitting on the bed. Kneeling down on the floor, he tenderly kisses the soles of her feet. Veronica lies back and sighs as his touch sends shivers through her. He kisses his way back up her body, over her jeans. Her muscles clench as he places kisses on her belly button and between her breasts, before coming to lie next to her on the bed. Her blond waves are tousled and her skin is flushed. He opens his mouth, then hesitates.

Veronica reaches out and cups his cheek.

“I'm ready. I want to. And I want it to be you.” She rolls so she’s lying on top of him, fingers gripping his jaw to hold his attention. “Pretty much since the first time you kissed me, I wanted it to be you. I wanted you all summer.” She bites her lip, not trying to be coy but searching for the right way to explain herself. “I knew you would be thoughtful but not treat me like I'm broken.” She gives him a wicked smile. “Plus, after some previous experiences with you, I suspect you'll be rather good at it.”

Logan laughs and maneuvers her underneath him, covering her body with his own and resting most of his weight on his elbows. “So you’ve been speculating on whether or not I'm good in bed?” He nuzzles her neck. “I am.” He smirkes.

She gasps in appreciation of what he’s doing. “Well, we did date. I have fond memories of the backseat of your Xterra. I'm pretty sure you thought about it, too. Like, whenever we were together!” The familiarity of bantering with Logan—something Duncan decidedly does not do—grounds her to the moment and her body sings with the rightness of her choice.

“I’d be lying if I tried to deny it. You know I couldn’t stop thinking about this...with you...all summer.”

Logan continues to kiss her neck and now his hands trace up and down her ribs, dipping under the waistband of her jeans each time they arrive there, before moving back up along her stomach and her breasts. His fingers brush against her nipples, firm through her cotton bra, and she lets out a moan. His mouth moves over the fabric to kiss her breasts and delicious waves of pleasure course through her body at his touch. She holds his head to her breasts and her hips buck beneath him.

“You certainly made me wait long enough.” _Oh my god, is she panting? How does he do that to her?_ She’d be embarrassed if she could manage to feel anything besides incredibly turned on.

Logan smirks up at her. “I've definitely missed this...” His hands slide under the fabric of her bra and cup the bare skin of her breasts.

“Me, too,” she confesses with a quick intake of breath and a smile.

“Oh, really?” Logan glances at her, heat in his gaze.

He sits up in the middle of the bed and pulls Veronica onto his lap again, still kissing her. He reaches around and unhooks her bra and she has a moment of thankfulness that she put on, if not fancy, at least semi-cute underwear this morning. One of his hands stays pressed on the small of her back but the other one begins to make circles around her nipple, grazing it with his thumb periodically. She forgets all about her underwear entirely.

Logan groans and maneuvers her off his lap and lays her down on her back on the bed. He lies on his side next to her again. Unzipping her jeans and teasing his fingers inside the waistband of her hot pink underwear, his eyes stay fixed on her, watching her face as her muscles jump at his touch. He repeats the motion, this time running his long index finger firmly down the front of her panties.

“Logan.” Her voice is hoarse and sounds odd to her ears. “You're driving me crazy.”

He smirks. “That's what I'm best at.”

 _Jackass_. She touches his chest, slowly moving down until she’s griping his erection through his jeans. He groans and stops teasing her to still her hand with his.

“No touching.” He admonishes.

Logan kisses down her chest and stomach until he reaches her jeans. He slowly eases them down her hips and legs, kissing her thighs, the backs of her knees, calves, ankles, and toes as he goes. Once her pants are on the floor he kisses his way back up her body again. Veronica’s trembling by the time he reaches her mouth.

“Are you cold?” Logan asks, a smug smile on his face.

She shakes her head— _he’s such a jackass, why are you doing this?_ Then he kisses that spot on her neck only he can find and she remembers why. _Fireworks._ She clutches him tightly to her.

“Stop being an asshole and take off your pants,” she growls low in his ear.

Logan barks out a surprised laugh—she knows he secretly loves it when she’s bossy— and stands up, unbuttoning his jeans and letting them fall to the floor, revealing tight black boxer briefs.

“Better?” he asks.

Veronica nods, not quite able to look away from the bulge in his underwear. It’s a little intimidating, if she’s being honest. She’s seen Logan naked before, she tells herself, and she’s not a virgin.

 _Well, not in the technical sense_ . She just doesn’t remember anything about her first time. She’s not nervous, exactly. They fooled around enough this summer that she knows what to expect, mostly, and that spot between her thighs is throbbing so hard she thinks she might explode. _Just relax, Veronica, you’ll figure it out_.  

Logan lies back down on the bed, stretched out next to Veronica and begins his slow torture again, kissing her and running his palms over her body. But it’s too slow.

“God, Logan, I can't handle anymore…ohhh.” Her words turn into a moan as Logan's fingers slide into her panties. He circles her clit and she arches her back and gasps.

“Oh. Oh, yes.” She throws back her head and tilts her hips forward, eager for his touch.

Logan must take that as a cue because he pushes her underwear down over her hips and thighs and stands up to pull them off. He pauses, looking at her lying naked on the bed before him.

“You're so beautiful, Veronica.” His voice is reverent. “Do you trust me?”

Not taking her gaze off him, she nods. Logan lies down beside her and his fingers graze her center again. He bends his head to kiss her breasts, circling her nipple with his tongue and she’s so wet, she’s probably ruining his sheets. He doesn’t seem to care. Slowly, gently, Logan slides one of his fingers inside her. She freezes, all her muscles clenching up at the unfamiliar sensation.

Logan maintains eye contact with her. “Does that hurt?” he asks.

Veronica shakes her head. “No, it’s just...different.”

It doesn’t hurt, but it does feel a little uncomfortable. Until Logan brushes his thumb against her clit. Then all she feels is pleasure.

“Mmmm,” she moans again. Logan begins to very slowly move his finger in and out of her. She bucks her hips against him—she can’t help herself—and pulls him further inside her.

Kissing her neck, he slides a second finger inside her. Veronica tenses again at the intrusion and he waits, sucking gently on her neck, until she can relax around him. She focuses on the feel of his lips on her neck and her body floods with desire from her toes to the roots of her hair.

“Logan. I want—I need…” Her voice trails off.

“Okay. I got you, baby.”

He quickly shucks his boxers and grabs a condom from his bedside drawer. He smooths it on and rejoins her on the bed.

“Scoot up against the pillows,” he whispers.

Veronica complies. He holds his weight off her with one elbow and positions himself at her entrance. Very slowly, he begins to slide inside her wet core. At her sharp intake of breath, he stops, watching her carefully the whole time.

“Are you okay? Does that hurt?” Logan's voice is anxious, full of concern.

She shakes her head. Her body’s tense but she manages, “Logan, I'm okay. Don't stop.”

“Thank god.”

He moves his fingers to her clit and touches her with gentle pressure. Bursts of light explode behind her eyelids.

“Ohhhh.” She pushes her hips up to meet his fingers and he slides further inside her.

“Fuck, Veronica. You feel so good.”

Logan's voice is thick with tension. He presses his finger on her clit and she rocks her hips against him, causing his shaft to slide in and out of her again.

Veronica's eyes, wide with pleasure and surprise, lock on his. She thought she knew what to expect but...she was wrong. She had no idea.

He continues to touch her and move inside her as her muscles begin to spasm around him. She’s never felt anything like this before. She moans loudly and grips his shoulders tightly, digging her fingernails into his back.

Veronica is beyond words now, incoherent sounds escape her lips as her brain whites out. The waves of pleasure build to a peak and then crest, crashing over, filling her with nothing but Logan. The intensity shocks her. Her inner muscles continue to squeeze and tighten as he thrusts inside her a few more times before stilling.

“God, Veronica,” he pants, resting his head on her shoulder briefly before rolling off her and holding her tightly to his side.

Veronica lies her head on his chest, his heart racing under her cheek.

“Wow,” she manages when she finally gets her breath back. “So that's what all the fuss is about, huh?”

Logan chuckles deep in his throat and Veronica feels it reverberate through his chest.

“Did it live up to the hype?” he asks.

“And then some.” She trails her fingers across his chest, tracing patterns on his skin. “Yeah, I definitely would have been sad if I’d died without experiencing that.”

* * *

****Hours later, Veronica wakes to the sound of the shower turning on in the bathroom. Logan’s side of the bed next to her is empty but still warm. She runs her hands over the sheets, stretching and taking stock.

Everything feels quite pleasant, actually, no lingering soreness like after Shelly’s party. Her muscles are heavy and she’s filled to the brim with a deep satisfaction. Round Two had been as earth-shattering with Logan as Round One—Lilly hadn’t exaggerated, the boy was gifted. And while falling asleep with her head cuddled on his chest after wasn’t the best part of the evening, it was satisfying in a different way. _So this is what contentment feels like, huh, Veronica?_

Inhaling deeply, she decides a shower wouldn’t be a bad idea for her, as well. _And maybe Logan would appreciate some company?_ A grin spreads across her face at the thought of Round Three.

_Now, where does he keep those condoms? A girl needs to be prepared._

Veronica opens the top drawer of the nightstand by his bed and rummages around. She could turn on the light, she supposes, but it can’t be hard to find…

She brushes something metal. Cold. Familiar. Her fingers close around a gun.

She’s not uncomfortable with guns, exactly. Her dad had been a law enforcement officer since before she was born. Gun safety was learned right along with the felonies and ‘don’t drink and drive.’ He took her to the firing range for the first time when she was nine, but the most important lesson he taught her was a healthy respect for guns. She was never allowed to touch his service weapon unless they were practicing; when he got home from work, his gun immediately went into the safe in the hall closet. Guns were not toys.

When she’d found a gun in Logan’s glove compartment this summer, she had panicked. Why did Logan need a gun? Where had he gotten it? When? How long had he been carrying it around? She wasn’t afraid of the gun but afraid for Logan. _Having a gun makes you a target_ , _and there was already a big enough bullseye painted on his back._

She had been scared, shocked, when the window of the Xterra exploded around them in a shotgun blast. But it was the look in his eyes, though—fear mixed with anger, a desire for revenge—that really pierced her heart and made her pulse race. She sobbed in the shower that night.

A few weeks after that, they had been on their way to the beach, getting a drive-through picnic. She had reached into his glove compartment for a pen so he could sign the receipt for their burgers and...there it was.

“A gun, Logan? A gun? What are you doing with a gun? You’re going to get yourself killed, don’t you understand that?”

Her voice sounded hysterical, even to her own ears, but she couldn’t stop the panic from clawing at her throat. He tried to comfort her, to pat her back soothingly but she shied away.

“Look, it’s...it’s not even loaded.”

“Oh, I feel so much better.” Now he’d be pointing an unloaded gun at someone, he’d be caught in the crosshairs with no way to defend himself. She was falling, being pulled deeper and deeper under the waves, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t make this boy her anchor if he couldn’t be counted on to hold her steady. Tears streamed down her face. _Find solid ground, Veronica_.

She shakes her head, trying to displace the memory. Her mouth is dry and her breath comes in short pants. _What were you thinking, coming here, Veronica? This was a terrible idea._ Her moment of clarity in the coffee shop when Carla was talking had pointed her to Logan; she can’t deny she wants him physically and obviously he likes being with her, too. But clearly she can’t jump back into a relationship with him. _You might have changed, but Logan hasn’t_. He wasn’t the one who had a near-death experience. Nothing’s changed for him. He’s still reckless and impulsive; still the boy who broke her lamp, burned down a pool, bought a gun.

Her eyelids burn and her vision blurs. _How could you have been so stupid, Veronica? Almost dying is no excuse to let Logan Echolls back into your heart...or any other place in your body._ The tears leak out, falling down her face and dripping onto her bare flesh. The shower turns off, and panic sets in.

_You’ve gotta get out of here._

She shoves the drawer closed. Grabbing her clothes off the floor, she quickly pulls them on. After she locates her bag by the front door, she bolts.

* * *

It’s barely been twenty-four hours, and yet Veronica is once again outside room 1147, knocking on the door. She didn’t have the guts to talk to Logan at school today, skipping English and spending study hall in the library so she could avoid him, but she’s not Duncan—she owes him a conversation, at least.

Logan’s face lights up when he opens the door to find her standing there. A genuine smile stretches his features, and god, she can’t remember the last time she saw him look this happy. He leans against the door frame and she almost loses her resolve.

“It’s good to see you. Sorry we didn’t really get to talk at school. I looked for you, but—" 

“Yeah, I was busy.”

He opens the door wider and she steps inside, closing it behind her. He turns and heads into the kitchen, whistling what sounds suspiciously like ‘I Feel Pretty.’

Logan grabs a Skist from his mini fridge and spins, skipping a little, offering it to her.

Veronica stands awkwardly in the entryway, shifting her weight from foot to foot and he looks surprised—disappointed?—when she shakes her head no.

He bends his head to kiss her but she deflects so his lips land on her cheek instead of her lips.

“Can you stay? I could order dinner or we could go out or—”

“No,” she cuts him off. “Logan, I...I think I made a mistake.”

All the happiness drains out of his eyes at her words and his face hardens into a sardonic mask.

“So it was just a booty call, huh? Just an itch you knew I could scratch?”

“It wasn’t like that…”

“Then was it like?” The question hits her like an accusation.

_Valid point. What are you doing, Veronica? How did you get in this mess? You’ve gotta stop thinking with your heart—or other traitorous regions of your anatomy._

“I, uh, don’t regret...that.” She’s too embarrassed to elaborate. “It’s nice to have some positive associations, some memories of my own, but my feelings—”

“Let me guess, now you wanna say it was all about your need to affirm life, and with someone who knows what he’s doing.” He gestures expansively with his hands out in front of him. “Well, that’s fine. I know what I’m good for.”

He practically spits the words out, venom lancing her heart.

“Just so you know, it was a one-time deal, Mars. I’m not your fuck buddy.” 

She gulps. _Ouch_. “I’m sorry. You know sometimes I get overwhelmed and need some space. But I found—”

“Some space? You ran out in the middle of the night without saying anything! I thought you had to get home because of your dad but I’m starting to think maybe I was wrong.”

He huffs a bitter laugh. “I’m such an idiot. All those things you said yesterday about the bus crash and regrets and perspective—I guess I got the wrong impression. I actually thought you wanted to be with me. Stupid, stupid Logan. I’m so glad you’re here to clear things up.”

His sarcasm is like a slap in the face and she recoils, flinching. She knows better than to try to reach out and touch him. His anger practically crackles off him like electricity. Taking a deep breath, she squares her shoulders.

“Maybe I do still have feelings for you but I can see now things haven’t changed. I found your gun, Logan. In your drawer.” She hates that her eyes fill with tears. “You’re still just a jackass with a death wish. I’ve changed but you haven’t. And I’m the idiot for not seeing it sooner. I’m sorry.”

Before Veronica can let him see her tears fall, she turns on her heel and flees. Again. The slam of the door reverberates behind her, making her jump as she practically runs down the hallway to the elevator. She desperately hopes she’s making the right choice. No matter what her heart wants—and she’s pretty sure it’s Logan Echolls—he’s still as toxic for her as he was two months ago. Nothing’s changed.

* * *

**LOGAN**

He knows the gun was a stupid idea. He figured that out a month ago. If she had asked why he still had it,  he would have explained. What does he know about disposing of illegally obtained weapons? When he moved into The Grand, he’d tossed it the nightstand under a river of condoms, told the cleaning staff to stay out of his room, and pushed it out of his mind. He hasn’t thought about it since she castrated him. But of course she found the fucking gun. Of course they have the same fight they had over the summer. She talks a big game about changing, but from where he's standing the record's still the same. She's still running, accusing him of being a jackass with a death wish.

She comes into _his_ hotel, stomps all over _his_ heart, _again,_ and _he’s_ the jackass?

He thought he was doing the right thing. He’d realized his mistakes and when she wouldn’t return his calls, even after the bus crash, he gave her the space she seemed to need so desperately. Sure, he waited in her parking lot for hours that night until he saw for himself that she was okay. And yes, he spent the rest of the weekend clinging to two words: _she’s fine._ But, when she avoided him at school, he didn’t demand to see her. He didn’t violate the boundaries she so clearly set up.

Then she came to him. And it felt like a benediction. Like some higher power he wasn’t sure he believed in recognized his efforts and decided Logan Echolls deserved a break. He thought he’d finally earned one happy thing.  

And after round two, when she trusted him enough to fall asleep in his bed, something that—in her mind—would expose her soft underbelly, he thought he and Veronica understood each other. He should have known when she disappeared this morning that she was running. Typical Veronica. He spent 24 hours thinking he got the girl. But apparently thinking is dangerous for a pretty boy like him. Better to take it out of his repertoire.

He heads to the mini bar to find himself a drink.

_She’s so determined to cast him as the jackass? Well, he can do that._

* * *

Somewhere between José and Johnny, Logan decides throwing a “Life is Short” party is a good idea. It’s really amazing how industrious a pretty little rich boy can be when he has 24 hour concierge service. Which is why, when he gets to school on Monday, he is laden with party fliers and false cheer.

He’s handing invites out to students—09ers only, life’s not _that_ short—when he spots Wallace Fennel standing by his locker. Logan is immediately disconcerted. He’s stared at the name in his phone for so long he forgot it was attached to a person. But now that he sees Wallace in person, he does have a question for him. He walks over and leans on the locker next to Wallace.

“Veronica’s not here. All the limo survivors got called in for group counseling,” Wallace explains in a careful voice.

“I’m not here for Veronica, I’m here for you.”

Wallace sends him a sidelong, slightly freaked out, glance. “Listen, man, I don’t know what you’re into but—“

“No, sorry. Let me start over. I just wanted to say...ah...it was really decent of you to send me that text message letting me know she’s fine.”

“Yeah, sure.” Wallace brushes it off.

“But—“

“Here we go.” He rolls his eyes.

“But why ‘she’s fine?’”

“What do you mean?” Wallace’s exasperation has evaporated, replaced with curiosity.  Maybe Logan can see how he’s friends with Veronica after all.

“You were looking for her—desperately enough to ask someone—an 09er most likely— for my number. And I didn’t answer. But you didn’t ignore me. You went out of your way to tell me she was okay.”

“Yeah.”

“So… why? Why do me any favors? We’re not exactly friends.”

“Honestly?” Wallace raises an eyebrow, as if asking permission to speak freely. “Because if you knew about the crash, with the way you looked at that girl over the summer, I figured if you weren’t dead, you were about to be.”

_How? How does this friend of Veronica’s—that he’s barely even spoken to—understand what she refuses to fucking see?_

Logan contemplates Wallace for a moment and then hands him a flyer. “Wanna go to a party?”

Taking the orange flyer, Wallace studies the symbols decorating the frame. “The Moon I get. Starts when it gets dark. What about the rest?”

Logan points to each icon. “The number 11 with the crown on it? That’s means it’s on the 11th floor of the The Grand. The Saturn—it’s on Saturday. And the color means it’s a Logan Echolls party,” he finishes proudly.

“Y’all even color code these things?” He can’t tell if Wallace is impressed or aghast.

“Yup! Lilly’s idea. She was red, Dick is blue. Lilly made Madison take yellow, Shelly was white, and for some reason she made me orange.”

Wallace snorts. “Yeah. ‘Some reason.’ So...can I bring a date?”

* * *

The party is in full swing, and Logan is feeling… well, he doesn’t know what he’s feeling. Which means he needs to find some entertainment before he starts thinking. Dick and Cassidy couldn’t make it and he hasn’t seen Wallace yet. That pretty much ends his interest in the guest list. Well,  if there’s one thing Jackasses know, it’s how to rally. He spots an attractive black girl he doesn’t recognize standing by his bedroom door— _excellent positioning—_ and saunters over.

Leaning against the wall facing her he asks, “So, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Oh, I’m not a nice girl.” She dimples at him.

Raising an eyebrow, Logan feels...nothing. A hot chick basically telling him she’s a bad girl and he feels nothing. Not even a flutter of interest. First Kendall and now this. Veronica Mars has fucking castrated him.

He tries again.

“Oh, really?” He hopes it comes out suggestive and not desperate.

The girl looks at him strangely. “Easy there, Killer. I’m here with someone.”

 _Oh, thank God. No wait. That’s not right. What the hell is wrong with him?_ “Are you sure? Because you and I could—”

“I see you’ve met Jackie. My date.” Wallace’s pointed voice cuts in, the hot chick—Jackie—seems amused.

He gives up. “We just met. You guys want to get away from these idiots? I keep the good stuff in my room.” He gestures towards the door next to Jackie.

He might as well spend the evening with some interesting people. Everyone else here bores the shit out of him, and life’s too short for that.

* * *

**VERONICA**

“Verrrronicaaaaa.” Wallace’s voice sing-songs over the phone and is he—giggling?

“Wallace?” She’s suspicious. “Are you okay?”

“Damn, you know I’m fine, girl,” and he says it like it’s a compliment on his manhood rather than an answer to her question. There’s more giggling in the background. Female giggling. “I just need a ride home.”

She sighs, deeply put-out, into the phone. “Are you drunk?”

“Mmmmmm, maybe a little? My ride is definitely drunk, so she can’t drive us home.”

“And what makes you think I can?”

“Come on, V. We both know you’re sitting at home, watching reruns of The Rockford Files with your dad. And I can’t call my mom; she’d kill me.”

“It was Magnum P.I., actually,” she grumbles at him, already slipping on her shoes. “Where are you?”

“The Neptune Grand. Room 1147.”

Veronica pauses, her jacket halfway on one arm. “Oh, no. You’ve got to be kidding me, Wallace.”

“I owe you big time. And make sure you come up with a good excuse for your dad that doesn’t involve me at all. My mom thinks I’m at Norman’s house.”

She grabs her tan canvas bag from the floor, sighing again. “You want me to lie to the guy who’s running for Sheriff?”

“V, you do that all the time,” Wallace teases. Apparently he’s a happy drunk.

“Yeah, I’ll think of something.”

She slides her phone closed, shoving it in her bag and heading towards the living room where her dad is watching TV. Figuring there will be fewer questions if she avoids eye contact, she makes a beeline for the front door.

“Bye, Dad, gotta go pick up Wallace from Norman’s. See you later!”

Thankfully the slamming door cuts off any protests he might have made. She locks up behind her and grits her teeth for what’s to come.

* * *

Veronica can hear the party in room 1147 before she can actually see the door and she marvels again at all the things money can buy—an underaged minor living in The Grand, and yet, the management turns a blind eye to the revelry.

She huffs another sigh and rolls her eyes in sheer irritation at the whole situation. (She refrains from stomping her foot but only just.) Giving herself a pep talk—mostly about how good Wallace is to her—she knocks on the door.

….And then pounds on it a second time, hoping her banging is heard over the thumping music.

Finally, the door opens and Madison Sinclair spills out of the hotel room, teetering on her platforms.

“This party’s lame, anyway,” she tosses back over her shoulder at someone inside before noticing Veronica. “Oh, it’s you,” she sneers.

“Madison. As lovely as ever.” Veronica gives her a fake, brittle smile. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Logan was inspired by the bus crash. Life is short, ya know? He hosted a party in honor of those kids who died. But it’s lame. And I don’t remember you being invited.”

Veronica very proudly does not punch Madison in the face, although God knows she deserves it.

“I bet you can’t even tell me the name of one student who died. And if it’s lame, why do you care if I’m here?”

Madison looks like she’s trying—hard—to formulate a response when Veronica cuts her off.

“Nevermind, that was rhetorical. Do you know where Wallace is?”

Madison stares at her like she doesn’t know who Wallace is, let alone where he is. Which is ridiculous since Madison cheered at every home basketball game last year. _Could she be more self-centered?_

“Get out of my way, Veronica. I’m leaving.”

Veronica moves aside to let Madison past her but then stops her, grabbing her upper arm and pulling the girl back around to face her.

“Do you have a safe ride home? Do you have someone you can call?” _As much as you hate Madison, you can’t let her drive impaired._

Madison brushes her off, though. “I’m fine, Veronica. Let go of me. I have all kinds of friends I can call.”

With a shrug, Veronica turns to see a trashed hotel suite filled with drunken high school students, dancing to loud music and looking for an excuse to grope each other in dark corners or get high.

 _Oh, great. Watching reruns with your dad sounds pretty good right about now._ _Hell, being strapped to an anthill sounds delightful compared to this._

She scans the party but there’s no sign of Wallace. After searching the main living room area, she shoves her way through the crowd and pushes open the double doors to Logan’s bedroom suite. She doesn’t dwell on why she’s checking his room first, and not the guest room. It’s Logan, after all.

Logan sits on his bed, one long leg tucked underneath him, the other dangling on the floor. His eyes are bright and he’s having an animated conversation with a pretty black girl. _No surprise here_. The girl leans in towards him and puts her hand on his forearm, giving him a flirty smile, and Veronica sees red. She has a flashback to that moment Sophomore year when she caught Logan making out with Yolanda and the same feelings roil through her belly—jealousy and anger and utter betrayal.

“Wow, Logan. Really classy. A party for your dead classmates. You’ve really plumbed new depths.”

She sounds shrill and bitter but she doesn’t care. She holds on to her fury, letting it build, and it gives her strength.

Logan looks up from his flirting and something hard crosses his face.

“I made it clear it was a one-time deal, Mars. I distinctly remember telling you—no booty calls.”

Veronica flushes with embarrassment at his words. The girl with him smirks and she wants to claw out her eyes.

“You’re such a cliche. I shouldn’t even be surprised a bus crash is a reason to party, but, god, I thought for a while there you were better than this.”

“Nope.” He pops the P on the end of the word in that way he knows she hates. “I’m a jackass with a death wish, remember?”

He gestures expansively, encompassing the hotel suite filled with debauchery. “Here’s your proof.”

Logan’s eyes glitter maliciously and Veronica is actually shaking with rage. She wants to rip every strand of his perfectly styled hair out of his head. The girl with him just laughs like this is the most entertaining thing she’s seen in weeks.

“And who the hell are you?” Veronica turns to her, taking a step closer to the bed.

“My date, Jackie.”

Wallace’s voice behind her makes her jump in surprise.

“Jackie Cook, meet my best friend, Veronica Mars.” He sounds resigned, exasperated.

Jackie gives her a tiny finger wave. Veronica doesn’t growl but it takes effort. She turns to Logan, engaging in her second favorite activity with him.

“Did you know any of the kids that died, Logan? Did you talk to any of them, at all? Ever?”

He rises from his position on the bed and saunters over to her, sardonic. “Doesn’t matter.” He waves his hand around in the air magnanimously. “Everyone wants a party held in their honor. It’s like a wake.”

“It’s nothing like a wake,” she spits out from between her clenched teeth. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but here you are, drunk, your room reeking of bimbo! You,” she takes a step towards him, poking him in the sternum, “you, are such a—”

“C’mon, now, V, you’re ruining my buzz,” Wallace cuts her off, grabbing her upper arm and whining a bit. “Leave Logan alone. He’s actually a good guy.”

Logan’s eyes widen in surprise. “No, no, I’m not,” he protests.

She turns to Wallace. “You’re drunker than I thought if you think he—” punctuated with another poke—“is a good guy. Let’s go.” She takes a few steps before stopping in front of the door, carefully not looking at anyone.

“Does your date need a ride home, too?”

Jackie’s voice comes floating in from behind her. “Nah, I’ll stay a little longer, enjoy the entertainment, drive myself home in the morning.” She gives another flirty laugh and Veronica balls her hands into fists.

_Enjoy the entertainment? In Logan’s bedroom?_

She spears him with a glare before stomping out.

_You really should have known better, Veronica. Nothing’s changed. Nothing at all._


	3. A Week of 'Not Thinking'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're posting early in honor of CubbieGirl's birthday! Wish her well, Marshmallows!
> 
> My friend, your talent is gift to the fandom and your presences is a joy in my life. XoXo MB

* * *

“You’ve reached Logan Echolls with today’s inspirational message. ‘Never give up on something that you can’t go a day without thinking about.’ Winston Churchill.”

* * *

  **VERONICA**

Veronica trudges across the quad on Monday, in a cloud of dark thoughts. She shouldn’t let Logan and what she saw in his suite on Saturday get to her—namely, the lovely and sophisticated Jackie Cook in his bedroom—but she’s having a hard time shaking her bitterness.

She’s probably not being fair. She slept with him— _stupid near-death experience_ —and then told him she can’t be with him. Because he’s still the same screwed up, reckless, jackass that he was this summer. She shouldn’t be disappointed when he turns to the next pretty girl who’s interested in him. Like a screwed-up jackass.

But she doesn’t want to be fair. It’s Monday, she just started her period, there’s a hole in her favorite shirt, and she’s not prepared for the Chemistry pop quiz that’s coming this afternoon.

So when Beaver calls her name as she reaches the concrete steps to the building, she pretends she doesn’t hear him. _Give yourself a break, Veronica. You’ve reached your 09er quota and then some._ But it doesn’t deter him.

“Veronica!” he calls again. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“You are talking to me; that’s the problem.” She turns to him, impatient. “I need to go.”

“But it’s about my dad. I’m worried, you know?”

Veronica doesn’t know. But it piques her curiosity. _You do so love to know things...and maybe a little investigating would be the perfect distraction._

“Okay. You got my attention. I’m listening.”

“Well, it’s my step-mom. And money. And I don’t know what else.” He’s fidgety and obviously distressed.

“Beav—Cassidy, sorry. You’re not making any sense.” She lets her irritation bleed through her words.

“I just—something’s off. Look, it’s just a hunch. I, I don’t actually know what’s wrong. But I’m willing to pay you a lot of money to find out if something’s going on and back it up with hard proof. ”

“You’re gonna have to give me more than that to go on.” She blows out a frustrated breath, ruffling her bangs. “Tell me about your stepmom.”

“Kendall. She’s a former Laker Girl. My dad had—good seats. They haven’t been married for all that long, and I’m sure she’s just a gold digger, Veronica, but I need help proving it.”

He’s so eager and innocent, with his puppy dog eyes. She sighs, not sure how to help him, not sure she wants to. Not sure she wants to turn down cash, either.

“Do you think she’s cheating? Or committing fraud? Like, embezzling from their joint account? Because I don’t know how to prove that someone is a gold-digger. Last time I checked, that’s your dad’s problem.”

“I don’t know, Veronica. Something’s just...off.”

_This is probably a bad idea, Veronica, but...what do you have to lose?_

“So what do you want me to do?”

He’s hesitant. “Um, maybe just hang around my house for a while and see if you get any leads?”

“Bea—Cassidy. Hanging out with your brother is a recognized form of torture. And I’m not sure anyone would buy that you and I are suddenly friends.”

He glances down at his shoes and then back up to her, bashful. “Well, we could pretend—”

“If you say ‘to be dating,’ I swear, Cassidy, I will cut you.”

The look on his face tells her all she needs to know. She whips around to go back into the school building.

“Wait! I’ve got an idea. You could come to the FBLA meeting today during lunch. My dad is the guest speaker and maybe, I dunno, maybe you could ask questions or—”

“FBLA?” She turns slowly to face him. _Why does that sound all too familiar?_

“Yeah, it’s the Future Business Leaders of America. I’m sure it’d look good on your scholarship applications, too.”

She narrows her eyes. “Your thoughtfulness knows no bounds.”

“And there’s a ton of guys in it you know—Dick, Duncan, Logan.”

“Nope. Stop right there. I’m not doing it.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

“Well, you didn’t like my fake dating idea,” he huffs.

After a pause, Cassidy continues in an enticing tone. “We haven’t even talked payment yet, Veronica. Name your price. You know I can match it.”

_Stanford. A new radiator for_ _the LeBaron. That cute green leather jacket at the thrift store last week. Chocolate. Lots and lots_ _of chocolate. Once again, money is wasted on the wealthy._

Veronica sighs. “I’m not voluntarily joining the billionaire boys club for less than a thousand dollars. Up front. Plus expenses. And another thousand when I deliver the goods.”

Cassidy doesn’t even bat an eye at her exorbitant demands. He holds out his hand for her to shake.

“Mr. Pope’s room at lunch time. I’ll see you there, Veronica.” His palm is sweaty.

“Um, one more thing. I’m gonna need a Dove chocolate bar from the vending machine with lunch. Dark, if they have it.”

He raises his eyebrows but nods. She’s not going to explain her PMS cravings to Beaver, but she’s definitely gonna need some chocolate to get through this day.

* * *

**LOGAN**

Future Business Leaders of America. Where the rich get richer and the poor aren’t invited. Sounds like just the type of place a jackass should be. Logan smirks to himself as he spots Duncan.

He doesn’t want to be here, but it’s better than watching Veronica glare daggers at him during the lunch period. If he didn’t know any better he would think she cared. At least this distraction should get her off of his mind. 

Mr. Pope has rearranged the classroom into a semi-circle around an overhead projector and  there are only two empty seats left at the far side of the room. Walking past the Donut and Cassidy, Logan takes the desk closest to Dick and gives today’s presenter, Richard Casablancas Senior, a small finger wave without meeting his eyes. The shooting range was uneventful, but, thanks to Kendall’s lusty glances, he’s still not sure where he stands with the elder Dick.

Pulling out his packed lunch, courtesy of the Neptune Grand hotel kitchen, he’s pleased to find the signature buffalo burger, with a side of waffle fries, and a chocolate cookie. _Finally, things are looking up._

Logan eats the burger first, and moves onto the fries. He’s pondering the superior quality of waffle fries over steak fries when the classroom door opens and Veronica strides in, paying no heed to their illustrious presenter.

_What is she doing here? She hates shit like this._ He glances between her and the only empty seat left—next to him. Resigned to his fate, he holds the Casablancas Industries brochure in front of his face and focuses on the Sandpiper Hotel as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen in his life.

A few seconds tick by and she hasn’t passed in his peripheral vision to take her seat. Logan risks a peek over his brochure. Veronica’s standing in front of Beaver’s desk with her hand out. Beaver places a chocolate bar in her open palm with a low, “It’s exactly what you asked for.” Veronica examines the bar carefully as if inspecting it for color, cut, and clarity. She tests its weight in her palm, then nods, accepting its quality. Finally, she crosses in front of him and slides into her desk. Logan relaxes his shoulders and puts the brochure down.

Logan listens with one ear. It’s kind of hard to focus with Veronica next to him. She’s nibbling on her chocolate bar, moaning with each little bite. He wants to ignore the sounds, he really does, but he finds himself attuned to them instead. Torturing himself by listening for each one. She asks Mr. Casablancas a few questions, giving him a brief reprieve, then continues to savor her Dove bar. When she neatly folds her empty wrapper and shoves it into her messenger bag, Logan releases a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Presentation over, Dick’s dad leaves and Mr. Pope takes over. Logan uses the distraction to hide his cookie. Jackass or not, she’ll steal it from him and he’ll have to endure the moaning all over again. _Maybe after a few minutes he can get out of the desk without embarrassing himself._

Veronica does a quick visual sweep of everyone’s lunch, then briefly pokes out her lower lip. With a shrug she starts sucking the remaining chocolate off her fingers.

_Come. On._

Fed up, Logan digs in his bag, hunting for his iPod mini and headphones. As he rifles through his belongings, Mr. Pope's comment about his boat restoration being tricky because they ‘had to reseal the hull twice’ manages to seep into his consciousness. Head still down, and without giving any real thought to what he’s saying, Logan sympathizes aloud, “Don’t worry about it, sir. The best ones can be difficult, even if you plug ‘em right the first time.”

When he looks up from his search he has precisely enough time to register Veronica’s gobsmacked expression, her face beet red, before he’s tackled out of his desk by 175 pounds of future president.

After landing a solid punch to his eye, Duncan hauls Logan off the floor and throws him against the wall. Logan holds his blows off as they tussle their way out of the classroom, each vying for the upper hand. The students eagerly follow them out.

Logan pushes Duncan against the lockers, getting too close for Duncan to land a proper hit. He doesn’t want to hurt him, and hopefully Duncan will stop swinging so he can ask him: _What. The. Fuck?_ Apparently, not wanting to hurt someone is a disadvantage in a fight, because before Logan can attempt to reason with him, Logan’s lack of offense gives Duncan the opportunity to shove him into the middle of the hall.

The students pick up the standard “fight, fight, fight,” chant, egging them on. Instead of the rush of battle, Logan just feels tired. He’s so done with fighting, even when he wins, he loses. Didn’t Veronica just prove that to him? He’s not interested in this new bullshit with Duncan.

He continues to hold Duncan back, which is comically easy, perhaps the man is only effective when he’s in an epileptic fit. Duncan is about to throw another useless punch when Veronica forces her way in between them. Duncan lets his fist fly and while it doesn’t connect, thanks to her small stature, it does manage to knock her over. Logan watches Veronica hit the floor with a hard thud, and his vision goes red. Duncan simply steps over her, aims for Logan again, and doesn’t look back. The asshole is supposed to be defending her honor, or some shit like that, and he doesn’t even check on her. _It’s way past time to end this._

Logan walks into Duncan’s next punch, blocking slightly with his left shoulder, and delivers a clean uppercut to Duncan’s jaw. His former friend drops to the floor.

Logan turns away from Duncan and spots Cassidy and Dick helping Veronica up. She brushes herself off and his mouth goes dry as her eyes bore into his. He suddenly knows how the chocolate bar must have felt. He licks his lips and steps towards her, which seems to snap her out of their intense exchange. She glares briefly at Beaver and strides away.

Dick walks over to Logan and clasps him on the shoulder, “You good, dude?”

Sparing Duncan a glance, he affirms, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Dick reaches down to help Duncan up. “Ronnie’s tiny, man. Not cool.”

With the same impeccable timing as every other adult in Logan’s life, Mr. Pope pops his head out of the classroom to intervene. _Where was he five minutes ago?_

_“_ Mr. Echolls! Mr. Kane! School nurse. Now. And then straight to the principal's office.”

_You know what? Fuck this._ Bypassing the nurses office, he walks out of the school. _It’s not like they can call his parents._

* * *

**VERONICA**

Despite her new-found knowledge of real estate and successful business models, Veronica realizes she needs to spend some time surveilling Kendall. Beaver helpfully provides a copy of her schedule—brunch, pilates, massage, facial, spin class—and she’s so oblivious, it’s like following around Malibu Barbie.

Hopefully the case will take her mind off of yesterday’s fight. Logan’s face after he punched Duncan. Slightly sweaty and extremely satisfied. Almost like— _Stop it, Veronica. Stay focused._

She dedicates her after school hours to spying on Kendall at the gym. It’s honestly pretty boring—although the time Kendall spends sculpting her ass on the Stairmaster is impressive—until she makes an unscheduled stop at the Sandpiper Hotel.

While the name might be imposing, the location is not. It reminds her of The Camelot—peeling seafoam green paint on the balcony railings, broken screens on the windows, leaky gutters, rusty trim. After Kendall enters room 304, Veronica amuses herself with the stereo in her car, waiting until a tall, fit, brunette man lets himself into Kendall’s room. She’s in luck because while they close the blinds—Philandering 101—there’s a gap where they are broken. It’s broad daylight and her camera’s huge but...it’s too good to pass up. She wants the money shot.

_Hmm. The old pretend to be a tourist routine, perhaps?_

Peeling off her green argyle sweater jacket, she replaces it with a palm tree printed t-shirt she finds in her back seat. Swapping out her brown Doc Marten boots for flip-flops and tossing on an old Padres cap, she thinks she can pull it off. Wallace might complain that she needs to clean out her car more often, but her clutter comes in handy.

Veronica takes pictures of the shoreline, the lifeguard tower, the scenic California palm trees. She makes a big show of frowning, looking around, and then deciding to get a better vantage point for her shot from the balcony of the Sandpiper. Coincidentally, right outside of room 304. She’s pretty sure that absolutely no one is paying any attention to her but that’s no excuse for lazy P.I. work.

While she’s up there, she’s able to surreptitiously zoom in on what’s going on behind the broken blinds and— _ick_ . That’s an image she’ll never be able to erase from her mind. But it makes her wonder... _Is that what you looked like with Logan?_ _Totally oblivious to all else, abandoned to pleasure?_ ... _S_ _top it, Veronica. Don’t let yourself go there. The last thing you need is for your libido to weigh in on the matter._

Why does watching him throw a punch get her going? _Ugh. This is not normal_. Her nether regions are straight-up traitorous. She heads back to her car.

After waiting the predictable forty-five minutes, Kendall exits the room, followed shortly by her mystery man. Veronica already has her money shot, but in spite of the pornographic images she had to subject herself to, it’s been nice to have a case to throw herself into. She barely thought about Logan at all.

As Kendall’s lover gets into his silver Lexus, Veronica decides to follow him and see what more she can learn.

The traffic route he takes is oddly familiar...because it leads to the Balboa County Courthouse building. _Interesting_.

Ten minutes later, Veronica sits back in her LeBaron, pondering what she found out. Kendall is sleeping with Jack Montana, the county assessor. Which is a hell of a coincidence, considering her husband is a real-estate developer… Maybe it’s time to talk an expert in the field—or in lieu of that, a kind high school business teacher.

* * *

The sun beats down on the back of Veronica’s neck but it doesn’t warm her; she pulls her denim jacket tighter around her body and shivers. The waffle-weave pattern of the courtyard lunch tables digs into the backs of her thighs but Veronica doesn’t notice. She’s too consumed thinking back over everything that happened yesterday.

After she talked with Mr. Pope and figured out that Mr. and Mrs. Casablancas were committing real estate fraud, Deputy Sacks hauled her back down to the County building for an interrogation with Lamb. At first she honestly thought that Lamb wanted to talk to her about the Casablancas scandal she uncovered and reported to the FTC. _Who knew that you’d take down an empire, Veronica, when all you wanted was chocolate and a little extra cash?_ She certainly never expected Lamb to tell her that a dead man washed up on the beach wearing her name.

Sure, she played tough and bluffed her way around the Sheriff, but really, on the inside, she was panicking. She had met Curly Moran, for crying out loud—well, interacted with him, at least—and then he ends up dead with her name on his hand. Literally. He was mixed up with bikers and, according to the records that she’d immediately looked up yesterday upon leaving the station, had served time for assault. Her mind keeps replaying their encounter at the cliffside memorial spot—had he looked familiar? Had she ever seen him before that? She doesn’t think so but he made an appearance in her nightmares last night and now everything is all jumbled in her mind—she’s having a hard time sorting out true memories from dreams.

Veronica likes to think she has pretty good instincts—or at least a healthy fear of stranger danger learned from having a dad in law enforcement. But Curly didn’t set off any warning bells in her head the day she saw him at the site of the bus crash. Did she miss something?

Why was her name on his hand? What does she have to do with anything? Is it tied to one of her dad’s cases? The lack of a giant plastic hamster ball around her person must mean that her dad knows nothing about this incident yet—and since she likes having the freedom to leave the house, she wants to keep it that way. She’s got to figure out the connection between herself and Curly Moran.

Veronica jumps visibly when Wallace drops his books onto the table next to her.

“Whoa, girl. You okay?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Fine. Just lost in thought.”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow but doesn’t push her. _God bless Wallace_.

“You’re thinking too hard.”

“Clearly.” She forces a chuckle. “You know what I’m trying not to think about?”

“Ugh, don't say it.” He sits down in front of his books and covers his ears playfully. “I mean, dates are one thing, but our parents spending a weekend away together—there are some realities about that situation that I just don’t wanna face.”

Veronica grimaces, agreeing with his sentiments of denial. She glances at their books on the table.

“Hey, I know what we should do this weekend as a distraction. Let’s have a movie night and watch that BBC version of Pride and Prejudice to help us survive this.” She raps her knuckles on the paperback book on top of the pile. “You can come over, I’ll make popcorn…”

At his dubious look she adds, “And snickerdoodles…”

“It’s no good, V. I’ve gotta babysit Daryl all weekend. Not to mention that watching chick flicks with you seriously hurts my street cred.”

“Well, I’d hate to do that.” She tries to cover her disappointment with sarcasm. She really isn’t looking forward to being alone this weekend.

“Although…” Wallace’s eyes light up as he glances over her shoulder. “Maybe you could help me. Be my wingman.”

“Your wingman? I don’t really think I’m—”

“Hey, Jackie!” Wallace interrupts her as the other girl gives him a flirty smile and sits down at their table. “You remember Veronica, right?”

“Of course.” Jackie’s smile turns feral; Veronica bares her teeth in a similar expression.

“Well, she was just suggesting a movie night at my house on Friday to help with this English reading.” He taps the book. “I heard you complaining about having to read it earlier. Wanna watch with us?”

Veronica’s eyes widen and her mouth drops open. _Being a third wheel was not on the agenda._ Wallace kicks her under the table, though, and she closes her mouth, nodding.

“Yeah, movie night. It’ll be fun.” She gives Jackie a pained smile. “You should come.”

Jackie shrugs. “I don’t have anything better to do. And if it gets me out of reading six hundred pages of white chicks fighting over some dude’s prospects, I guess I’m in.”

“Great. That’s just great.” Veronica tries to turn the corners of her mouth up in an approximation of a smile. “See you later.”

* * *

**LOGAN**

Logan answers the door of his hotel suite to find Dick standing on his doorstep.

“Dude, can I stay here for a few days?”

Logan swings the door wider and gestures Dick into the suite. He doesn’t ask any questions, simply walks back to where _Dead or Alive: Extreme Volleyball_ is paused on the TV, and holds out the extra controller to Dick.

They play in silence until Dick, fingers still flying on the controller while he stares at the screen, asks: “Your girlfriend tell you about my dad?”

“If you mean Veronica, she’s not my girlfriend.... What about your dad?” He doesn’t love the idea of Veronica having a story involving the gun-savvy real estate mogul.

“Whatever, dude. That chick owns you.” Dick seems to be completely engrossed in the game, but explains, “Turns out, my dad has been cheating investors—over-inflating property values or some shit. Ronnie found out, blew the whistle.”

“Oh.” He’s not sure what to say. At least your dad didn’t sleep with your girlfriend and kill her probably isn’t right.

“Dad took off. My skank of a stepmother is gone, too. She was sleeping with the county assessor who was helping Dad. Mom’s coming back ‘just until you boys are settled,’” Dick imitates bitterly.

“That sucks, dude. You can stay as long as you like.” Not the hot blonde he’d prefer, but Dick’s cool.

 

* * *

 

Friday morning Logan runs into Jackie as he’s grabbing his books from his locker.

“How’s the eye, Killer?”

“Haha. It’s fine, doesn’t even hurt anymore.” He touches the bruise gingerly.

Jackie nods sagely. “I bet it’s nothing compared to that broken heart.”

Logan glares at her. He never should have started on the whiskey after Veronica and Wallace left his Life is Short party. He ending up pouring out his heart as he poured drinks, much to Jackie’s fascination.

“I’m sorry,” she laughs. “I am. But Logan, Goldilocks clearly has it bad for you. Can’t you just talk like normal people?”

“I just… I can’t go there again. I told you, she left _me._ And Veronica’s less of a talker, more of a runner. _”_

_“_ So, you’d rather walk around all tortured, castrated and fending off bimbos?”

_He really did talk too much._

“If I thought I had a shot I would take it. But she’s made it perfectly clear I’m not good enough for her.” _Unless it’s in the bedroom._ “Can we not talk about this?”

Jackie tilts her head. “What are you doing tonight?”

He’s immediately filled with apprehension. In his experience, nothing good ever follows a head tilt.

“Nothing.” He answers cautiously.

“Wanna see a movie?”

* * *

**VERONICA**

Veronica pulls up in front of Wallace’s house, parking alongside the curb with a sigh. She’s glad to have a distraction from her own thoughts tonight, but third-wheeling as Wallace’s wingman is still only marginally more appealing than eating ice cream and moping with Backup. She needs to stop thinking about the bus crash and Curly Moran, though, and that’s all she’d do if she’s home with her dog. So she takes a deep breath, grabs her container of homemade Snickerdoodles, and exits the car, locking her door behind her.

Logan always used to tease her about locking the LeBaron—he claimed that no one would look twice at it and there was no worry that it would get broken into. _You’ve gotta stop letting these little things remind you of him. Get over it, Veronica._

Veronica pastes a smile on her face and lets herself into the Fennel house.

“Wallace! I’m home! With your fresh-baked…”

She trails off as she sees Wallace perched on the arm of the brown corduroy couch, sitting next to Jackie...and Logan. The look of surprise on his face is her only gratification in the scenario.

“V!” Wallace jumps up. “I was just telling Logan, here, how movie night was your brilliant idea.”

She sputters, and says the first thing that comes into her mind. “But...where is your car?”

_Yeah, not your wittiest moment_. But usually his bright yellow banana of a car makes it easy for her to avoid him. She would have definitely noticed (and kept on driving) if it was parked out front.

He shrugs, nonchalant. “It’s in the shop. Jackie gave me a ride. But I didn’t realize it was a double-date.” He narrows his eyes at Jackie but she just gives him an enigmatic smile.

Veronica turns to Wallace, gritting her teeth. “Can I see you in the kitchen for a second?” She makes it clear that it’s not a request.

Wallace quickly nods and follows her.

Once they are out of sight, she spins on him and shoves the snickerdoodles into his chest.

“What the hell, Wallace?” she hisses, hoping not to be overheard from the living room.

“I swear, I didn’t know. Jackie brought him. They’re friends, I guess.”

_Yeah, Jackie looked pretty friendly in his bedroom last weekend._

“Are you sure they’re not dating?”

Wallace scoffs at that and sets the box of cookies down on the counter, squeezing her shoulder.

“Look, V, I don’t exactly know everything that’s happened between you and Echolls. But he’s not as bad as I thought.”

Veronica’s mouth drops open in surprise but Wallace continues to speak before she can argue.

“He’s my friend these days, and you’re my best friend. My BFF. So I’d like it if you could get along. But I’m not gonna force you to stay if you don’t want to.”

She sighs. Wallace knows she can’t resist when he calls her his BFF.

“Okay, but—”

“No buts.” He points a finger in her face. “If you stay, you gotta promise to play nice. Retract claws.”

“Fine. But I’m gonna need my own bowl of popcorn. And those snickerdoodles are for sharing.”

He’s already snuck one out of the box, she notices, as he shoves the rest of it in his mouth, nodding and mumbling, hopefully about her popcorn.

Taking a deep breath, she makes her way back to the living room, claiming the armchair, at least, so she doesn’t have to sit too close.

Logan is sitting with Jackie on the couch and making her laugh at something, but they fall silent when Veronica sits down.

Jackie glances between the two of them, obviously noting the tension.

“So you guys gonna be okay tonight? I didn’t realize—”

“It’s fine,” Veronica snarls, already fed up with this girl. _How dare she?_

Much to Veronica’s surprise, Logan sends Jackie a quelling look and deflects.

“It’s water under the bridge. So, Jackie, tell us your favorite place to eat in New York.”

Wallace hands her a bowl of popcorn and settles onto the couch next to Jackie, listening intently to her—predictably self-centered—story. Logan, who has been to New York countless times and doesn’t need to hear second-hand tales, slides off the couch and starts the movie, coming to recline on the floor at her feet.

He leans back against the armchair, carefully making sure they aren’t touching. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly.

A quick glance confirms that Wallace and Jackie are engrossed in their conversation.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “How’s your eye?”

He touches it absently. It’s mostly healed since his fight with Duncan earlier in the week; the bruising is barely noticeable anymore.

“I’d already forgotten about it.” Logan shrugs. “I get in fights all the time; I’m just a jackass with a death wish, remember?”

Veronica takes a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. _You probably deserve that._

“You are a jackass. And you do get in a lot of fights. But this one—there was something a little different about this one.”

“Oh yeah? Watching real carefully, were ya?” Logan’s reply is flippant and he keeps his gaze glued to the TV but his lack of fidgeting reveals that he’s listening. So she clenches her teeth and doesn’t take the bait.

“Well, first off, you didn’t start this one. Duncan did. And you didn’t fight back until he knocked me down. That sounds more like hero behavior to me.”

He looks up at her sharply but now it’s her turn to pretend to be engrossed in the movie. He doesn’t say anything more, just settles back against the armchair. His arm brushes against her legs and she shivers.

Glancing up at her playfully, Logan asks, “Are you cold?”

_Jackass_. She rolls her eyes in response but doesn't move away.

Veronica actually kind of likes _Pride and Prejudice_ —the storyline, at least. Five hours of any movie would be a little long for her tastes. She tries to focus on it, truly, but she can’t keep her mind off of Curly Moran. She keeps surreptitiously checking her phone—for what, she’s not sure. For her dad to call? Or Lamb? It doesn’t make sense but she can’t stop fidgeting and her mind won’t quit coming up with nightmare scenarios, each one worse than the last. When a car outside backfires, she jumps, practically out of her skin. Logan and Wallace look over at her suspiciously.

“Veronica,” Wallace begins slowly, “are you okay?”

_Stop being so damn perceptive, Wallace._ Aloud, she protests, “I’m fine.”

“No,” he argues, eyes narrowing. “This is more than just you and Echolls. You’ve been jumpy all day. What’s going on?”

“Nothing I want to share.” Veronica’s gaze encompasses Logan and Jackie and she crosses her arms over her chest, trying to will Wallace to drop it.

Jackie rolls her eyes. “Alright, I can tell when I’m not wanted.” She tries to tug Logan with her as she heads into the kitchen but he shakes his head. Shrugging, Jackie steals a snickerdoodle and walks away while Wallace pauses the movie.

“Spill it, Supafly.”

Veronica glares at Logan. “Maybe I should tell you later, _Wallace_.” She emphasizes his name, trying to pointedly exclude Logan but he refuses to cooperate.

“I’m not leaving,” Logan interjects. “I know we’re...whatever. But no matter what’s happened between us, I’m always gonna be here if you need anything.”

He stares at her, his brown eyes full of concern and that’s what breaks her. _Keep Logan at a respectable distance and it will be fine, Veronica. You can handle him._ _And maybe talking through everything with Wallace will help you figure it out._ She hops up out of the chair and starts pacing the length of the living room.

“Okay, truthfully, I am a little freaked out. I, I don’t know what to do.” She stops and spins, pointing at Wallace. “You can’t tell my dad, though.”

He throws up his hands, miming ‘surrender.’

“Why are you freaked out?”

Both pairs of eyes are fixed on her as she sinks down onto the couch. Wallace scoots, making room for her, and Logan drops to her feet.

She takes a deep breath. “Two days ago, Lamb brought me in for questioning. A dead body washed up on shore... with my name on him.”

“With...your name...on him? What does that mean?” Wallace asks.

“Veronica Mars. Written on his hand in permanent marker.”

There’s silence in the room while they process this information. Now it’s Logan’s turn to pace, rubbing the back of his neck.

Wallace’s eyes are wide as he continues his questions. “So what does Lamb think?”

Veronica gives a sarcastic huff of a laugh. “Nothing, as usual. He thought I would have answers. But this is connected to the bus crash and bikers and I don’t even know what all and—”

“The bus crash? Bikers? How’s it connected?” Logan interrupts her before she can panic.

“Sorry. Curly was last seen outside a biker bar called The Road Hog. And I saw him at the site of the crash a few days after it happened.”

Logan stops his pacing and stares at her, a curious glint in his eyes. “Curly?”

“Right. The man they found, his name was Curly Moran. He was an ex-con—”

“Who works at Symbolic Motor Car Company. He’s my mechanic. Or was, I guess,” he amends.

“How did you know him?”

“He was friends with my dad.”

“So do you think—?”

“I don’t know.” Logan cuts off her question. “But I have to pick up my car tomorrow. That gives us the perfect excuse to poke around.”

“Us?” Veronica echoes.  

“Yes, us. Dick told me about the real estate thing with his dad. You know the man carries a gun right?” he asks rhetorically. “Now dead bodies are turning up with your name on them. You’re done working cases alone. I know you’re not built to let people help you, but I’m not built to stand on the sidelines.”

Veronica is about to protest when Wallace jumps up from the couch, and shakes Logan’s hand. “Welcome to the team, man.”

Inwardly relieved, Veronica pouts, “Fine. I know when I’m outnumbered.”

 


	4. Getting it Right

 

* * *

 

“You’ve reached Logan Echolls with today’s inspirational message. ‘Rewinding time is not possible, but do-overs are, sometimes we get another chance to do something right the second time that we got wrong the first time.’”

* * *

** VERONICA **

“My god, you make me wish I had child locks. Stop it!” Veronica growls to Logan across her car as he fiddles with the power window buttons on the door for what feels like the millionth time.

He shrugs, unrepentant, and waves his fingers at her. “You’re pissed because I’m your way in.”

Veronica fumes, silent.  _ He’s not wrong _ .

“How are we going to play this?”

“Play? Logan, this isn’t a joke! Curly Moran washed up on the beach, beaten to death with my name on his hand. He was friends with your dad and could be connected to the bus crash,” she mutters, glaring at him. 

Logan, apparently, is a theatrical mood today. He places his palm on his chest, fake-shocked. “Why, Veronica Mars, have you forgotten? Everything is a joke to me! I’m just a jackass with a death wish.” 

“Just because you have a death wish doesn’t mean—”

But she swallows and glances out her window quickly, not finishing her sentence.  _ Doesn’t mean you have to be so reckless.  _

“So. Curly’s garage.” Logan prompts, staring at her. 

“Right.” She clears her throat. “You’re going to ask a million questions about the work they did and distract everyone. Have the other mechanics double check your car and explain everything they did to it. Go into condescending jackass mode; it won’t be hard for you. I’m gonna snoop around while they are paying attention to you.”

“And you’re there because…?”

“I’m taking my friend to pick up his car. Obviously.”

“Then why are you hanging around? Wouldn’t you drop me off and leave?”

_ Shit _ . He has a point. The only thing she can think of that makes sense is…

Veronica sighs. “Okay. I’m your doting girlfriend.”

Logan sneers. “I don’t think you have the acting chops to pull that off.”

“Watch me.” 

She slaps away his fingers as he reaches for the radio dial and turns off whatever’s playing. She proceeds to give him every last boring detail about her latest client Julie—a jumpy almost-fiancé convinced her trust fund-baby boyfriend is hiding something. It’s a productive distraction for Veronica and hopefully annoys Logan.  _ He’s the one who wanted to help on cases. _

He jiggles his knee and inspects his nails the rest of the way there, the picture of affected boredom. She really is doing him a favor by driving him. He could act a little more grateful. 

Veronica pulls up in front of Symbolic Motor Company... and hopes they allow her to park the LeBaron here, among the scores of luxury vehicles. She glances at Logan. 

“It doesn’t exactly blend, does it?”

He chuckles at her quietly, sarcasm gone, and the genuine twinkle in his eyes causes an internal flutter she doesn’t want to examine right now. 

She pastes on her Amber smile and bounces out of the car, skirt swinging, and meets Logan around the front, grabbing his hand with a giggle. She quickly takes in the garage as they walk through it to the front desk—oil stains and kitty litter on the concrete floor, posters of scantily-clad women reclining on muscle cars, and tall toolboxes at each workstation are pretty standard but the assortment of vehicles are much fancier than at her normal mechanic’s.

Logan sidles up to the intake desk, appraising a cardboard cut-out of a swimsuit model advertising oil filters. He seems to appreciate it. He taps the bell, annoyingly, until a harried mechanic comes to do his bidding. The name patch on his blue coveralls reads, ‘Dave.’

The man wipes his hand on a red shop rag that he pulls from his pocket before holding it out for Logan to shake. “What can I do for you, man?”

Logan plays the douchebag role effortlessly.  _ It’s not much of a stretch _ , Veronica thinks uncharitably. He merely gazes at the dirt under the man’s fingernails and doesn’t take his hand. 

“Yeah, I’m looking for Curly. He’s working on my baby.”

“Bad news for you. Curly’s dead.” Dave doesn’t sound too broken-hearted.

“Bummer.” Logan is flippant. “Does that mean my car’s not done? Because I’m sick of having my girlfriend drive me around.” He jerks his head in Veronica’s direction. 

She gives him a pouty look before turning to the mechanic, who’s typing furiously away on the computer.

“You’re gonna double-check his car, right? Make sure everything is okay? Because the shocks were driving me crazy. I could barely put on my eyeliner on the way to school.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Sugarpuss, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Well, if your usual guy didn’t finish the job, I want them to go over every detail with you.” She looks around and wrinkles her nose in distaste. “Is this place even reliable? My dad always tells me to take my car to the dealership.”

Logan slides his arms around her waist and kisses the top of her head.  _ There’s that flutter again. _ “Anything for you, darling.” He looks at the mechanic expectantly.

“Oh, yeah.” Dave looks up from the computer monitor. “Your car is right over here, Mr. Echolls, and I’d be happy to go over the work with you.” He glances at Veronica. “You can, um—”

“No need. I’ll wait.” She pulls a copy of People magazine from her purse and gives him a toothy grin.

As Logan and Dave wander off toward one of the vehicle bays, Veronica spots a workstation labeled ‘Moran’ near the back of the garage. She stuffs the magazine back in her purse and slips over to inspect the toolbox. She doesn’t exactly fit in—her plaid skirt and knee socks are a dead giveaway she’s not a grease monkey. But if caught she can always claim she was looking for the bathroom. 

It looks like someone at the garage has already boxed up Curly’s personal effects.  _ Helpful.  _ She quickly rifles through it—nude calendar, framed pictures of sports cars, pictures of Curly with sports stars, picture of Curly with Aaron Echolls—and some loose spark plugs and lug nuts. No clues that point to her, or any new information about Curly.

Veronica turns to head back to the front desk when she bumps into the corner of a framed movie poster leaning against the side of the tall toolbox.  _ Ouch _ . That’s gonna leave a mark on her hip. She rubs the spot absently and sees it’s an autographed poster of ‘The Long Haul.’ The 1982 action thriller, mostly famous for its chase scene where a truck is sent veering over a bridge, was Aaron’s big break.  _ Curly must have been a big fan.  _

Then she notices the name of the stunt coordinator—David ‘Curly’ Moran. He doesn’t have the poster because he was a fan but because he was part of the crew. That must be how he met Aaron. He had the skills to send the bus over the cliff. A chill races down her spine.

“Logan!” she calls out, hurrying over to the open bay doors to find him. She can’t keep the relief off her face and he gives her an odd look. “Oh, there you are, snookums! Are you about ready to go?”

She links her arm through his and leans against him, taking comfort in the solid warmth of his body.  

“Everything okay?” he whispers.

She gives a minute shake of her head and tries to cover her fear with her Amber smile. “Is your car done yet?”

“Almost, pookie.”

In her perky voice, she says, loud enough to be heard, “Well, I want them to take it for a test drive around the block and make sure it’s handling better.”  Under her breath she adds, “Curly Moran was a stuntman. He could have sent the bus over the cliff. I want to be sure your car’s safe for you to drive home.”

He turns to her, eyes wide. “What, do you think it’s gonna blow up?”

She shakes her head. “Probably not. I’d just feel better…”

Logan puts his arm around her and squeezes her to his side, reassuring. “Whatever you say, dear.”

She probably shouldn’t like being this close to him. But she does need to sell their cover relationship so…she leans into him while they watch Dave take his car for a test drive around the block. 

Logan’s car is fine, of course. She just had a crazy paranoid moment. He doesn’t make fun of her for it, though, merely gives her a kiss on the cheek and a finger wave and drives away in his yellow monstrosity of a car.

She slides behind the wheel of her LeBaron, fingers brushing her cheek as she thinks back to Logan and— _ stop it, Veronica. Not wanting him dead doesn’t mean anything.  _

Mentally regrouping, she tries to focus on her case and what they know about Curly Moran. Admittedly, it’s not much. Maybe the biker bar where he was last seen is worth checking out… She still can’t figure out why he had her name on him. When she runs out of theories there, her mind automatically drifts from the bus crash to Meg. She hasn’t been to the hospital to visit her yet; maybe now would be a good time for that.

* * *

On her way into Balboa Memorial, Veronica grabs a bouquet of flowers from the hospital gift shop. Even if Meg’s in a coma, it seems like the right thing to do. Flowers in one hand, phone in the other, she upgrades Julie to the “gold package” (heavier surveillance and a temptation scenario) as she pushes the “up” button for the elevator with her elbow. 

Taking the elevator to the fifth floor intensive care unit, Veronica wanders until she finds room 546. She takes a deep breath, fingers hovering over the doorknob, when she startles at a voice behind her.

“Veronica?”

She spins and comes face to face with Duncan. 

“What are you doing here?” 

He glances quickly to the door behind her, mumbling, “Visiting Meg.”

She gets a sneaking suspicion in her belly. The way he won’t meet her stare, the embarrassed flush on his cheeks… “Duncan...do you still have feelings for Meg?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You know, we never really talked about what happened between the two of you.” She presses him for information.

“Just like we never talked about you and Logan?” He shoots back. 

Veronica shakes her head. “You’re not good enough for her.”

“Nobody’s ever good enough in your mind, Veronica. If I’m not good enough for Meg or you, then Logan’s certainly not.”

“That’s where you’re wrong!”  _ Wait, where did that come from?  _

“What does that mean? Are you back with him already?” He gives a bitter chuckle. “God, I was just a pawn in your game.” 

“See, I think it was the other way around. You started stalking me at work when I was dating someone else,” she pushes her finger into his chest, “and asked me out when I was still reeling from things with Logan. And you obviously aren’t over things with Meg. I think you were the one playing games.”

Instead of replying, Duncan throws his hands in the air and storms off, as usual. God, she should know better than to engage him. 

Inhaling a deep, cleansing breath, she opens the door to Meg’s hospital room.

She doesn’t know what she expected...but it’s not this. Meg is hooked up to so many wires and monitors Veronica can barely see the girl underneath. Her blond hair fans out on the pillow behind her, dirty and matted. There are tubes dripping fluids into an IV in her arm. Veronica wants to reach out and touch her but she’s not sure there is a safe patch of skin available. She focuses on Meg’s heart rate monitor, on the steady beeping and the constant waves on the screen proving her friend is still alive. 

That’s when she notices the second monitor, with a much faster beat. Attached to Meg’s stomach. 

She throws back the covers, revealing bruised legs and Meg’s slightly rounded belly. Watching the second heart rate monitor, she can’t deny the evidence before her. Duncan’s visit, his guilty and defensive behavior...it all adds up now.  _ One plus one equals...three, in this case _ .

Did Duncan know? Did he know when he broke up with Meg? Did he know when he asked her out? Did he know when the bus went over the cliff? Was he relieved his ‘problem’ was taken care of? 

Disgusted at the thought, Veronica hastily sets down the flowers she brought on Meg’s bedside tray and stumbles from the room. Trying to school her features, she rushes to the elevator.  _ Focus on your case, Veronica. Focus on Julie.  _

* * *

**LOGAN** **  
**

_ “If you wannabe my lover, you gotta get with my friends…” _

Logan pauses the video game and gives Dick a “hold on” gesture. He locates his phone, lying among the soda cans and snack debris on the coffee table, and cuts off the Spice Girls ringtone to answer Wallace’s call.  

“Hello, friend of Veronica.” 

“Not gonna ask. We’re on, other...friend of Veronica. Honey trap scenario in two hours. V needs tech support.”

Honey trap. Logan digs his fingers into his temples with his free hand. If this is the same case Veronica was talking about on the way to Symbolic Motor Company then the trap is for the cheating boyfriend and that means...

“Is Veronica the honey?” 

Wallace chuckles. “You know it. So, you in?”

“Yeah, I’m in. Text me the details.” 

Before Logan can put the phone down, Dick starts the game, sulking, “You didn’t say how high.” 

Logan scrambles for his controller. “What?”

“Didn’t your new BFF say jump?” 

“Come on, it’s not like that.” As uncomplicated as his friend is, Dick has been having a tough time with his dad’s escapades. The rumors and whispers follow him everywhere, and it seems to be taking a toll. He hasn’t said anything, but Dick is at The Grand more often than not, foregoing parties in favor of video games and drinking alone. Logan’s also pretty sure there’s more magic than chocolate in his daily brownie consumption. 

Playing the game halfheartedly now, Logan suggests, “Why don’t you come with me?” 

Dick brightens immediately. “Oh, okay. Cool.” 

_ Huh. Simple as that.  _ Maybe Dick’s isolation wasn’t a choice. Logan has been a little distracted lately. He has precious few real friends, and they deserve better than that.

Inspired, Logan stops the game again to make another call. He enjoys the ringback tone while his party is being connected, humming along to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons and ignoring Dick’s curious, but good-natured, expression. 

“This is Jackie.” 

Logan tilts his head, willing the power of the gesture into his voice. “Hey, buddy, whatcha doing?”

* * *

Logan guides the Xterra behind the silver hatchback, careful to leave some space so he doesn’t hit Wallace, who is digging through the trunk. 

“What up, Watson!” Logan calls out as he exits the Xterra, joining him at the back of the car.

“Does that make you Mary?” Wallace muffled voice comes out of the trunk. 

“Irene Adler, obviously.”

Wallace steps back and spots Jackie and Dick getting out of the SUV. He looks at Logan with disbelief. “You brought an entourage?” 

Jackie bristles. “We’re not following him around, Wallace.” 

“Muscle. Alternative honey option.” Logan points to Dick and Jackie respectively. 

Wallace gives him a pitying head shake as the Le Baron pulls up behind the Xterra. “Your funeral.”

Logan hears Veronica before he sees her. “Logan, if you’re going to help on cases you can’t bring this monstrosity. It’s too…” She trails off, irritation clear, as she spots the extended team. 

Marching over to Logan and Wallace, she grabs each by the back of the shirt and steers them out of earshot. “Do we have to go back to spy school, boys?”

Logan finds it impossible to formulate a response. His brain has been short circuited by her miniscule jean skirt, fishnet tights, and cowgirl boots. Her hair is even in those short, stubby pigtails he likes to pull while she—

“Did you have those clothes, or did you buy them from Dirty-Coeds-R-Us?” 

_ Yeah, you tell her Wallace.  _

“Haha.” She turns and walks back to the cars and Wallace follows, with Logan trailing behind silently. Veronica nods to Dick and Jackie while Wallace holds a small mic out to her. “Got somewhere to put it?”

With only a slight eye roll she secures it under her low cut tank top. 

_ She’s trying to kill him. His tombstone is going to read “Logan Echolls. Castrated and killed by Veronica Mars.” _

“Jackie can be honey.” He blurts out. 

Veronica looks instantly offended. “ _ That’s  _ why she’s here? Dick I sorta get—muscle, right?” At his surprise she shrugs. “I know you. But you’re telling me you guys want Jackie to run my scenario?”

Wallace holds up his palms in defense. “Don’t look at me, Supafly. I had nothing to do with this.” 

“I just came for the show.” Jackie calls from the curb. 

With a fuming glare at Logan, Veronica starts giving orders. “Okay, clear the cars out. Only the LeBaron on the street. Dick, let the air out of my front left tire. I assume you’re familiar with the process.”

Logan admires the restraint it took for that comment to come out only mildly sarcastic. 

“I’m going into the house.” She points, ”Wait for me around the corner.”

“You’re going to Nick's house?” 

She looks confused. “Who’s Nick?”

“Nicholas Cage.” Logan gestures toward the blue house. “That’s his place…. Hey! I can be the honey. Nick is on location, but Lisa Marie might be there.” 

Veronica looks decidedly unamused. “Everyone, get moving. We’ll figure out what’s going on once I get in the house. Wallace, you know the drill.” 

They park the cars around the corner and hop back. Logan opens the Xterra trunk, giving Jackie and Dick a place to sit while he reclines against the frame. Wallace paces in front of them, fiddling with an audio reliever, clearly not happy with the output. They’re only getting snippets of conversation interspersed with static. 

_ “Too tight…. Lotion...all over...slippery….cute are you?”  _

What kind of conversation could possibly warrant those particular words? She’s not going to kill him. He’s going to kill her. 

_ “ _ Calm down, Killer.” Jackie gestures to his clenched fist with her chin. 

“Yeah, did you see the outfit Ronnie was wearing? She’ll get the info outta the dude in no time.” 

“Not helping.” Wallace warns Dick as Logan growls. 

_ “Gorgeous...that’s a hard—”  _

The feed from the mic cuts out suddenly and the group exchanges startled glances.

_ “ _ Fuck this.” Logan storms towards the house.

Wallace calls out over Jackie’s bubbling laughter, “Tell him you’re collecting for UNICEF or something.” 

At the door, Logan jabs at the doorbell aggressively. A man, the mark he assumes, opens the door to greet him. Looking past him, Logan spots a curious Veronica popping her head out from the top floor.  _ Why the fuck is she upstairs? Bedrooms are upstairs. _

Logan pushes past the burly blonde man in the doorway, with a short, “I’m here for my girlfriend.” Veronica gives him stern glare from above then hurries down the stairs. 

Once her feet hit the bottom floor, she grabs Logan by the arm, pulling him out the door and shouting over her shoulder, “Thank you! I called Triple A and my boyfriend after I emailed my professor the paper.” 

The door closes behind them and she drags him down the street but stops before they turn the corner to meet their friends. Whirling to face him she demands, “Did you have to get all caveman in there? You almost ruined it.”

“I—”

“And why do you still have a gun, Logan?” The question bursts out of Veronica’s mouth, and she looks like she’s surprised herself by asking it. 

“What was I supposed to do with it, Veronica? Drop it in a back alley trash can? Turn it over to the cops? Is that what good little murder suspects do?” 

Frustrated, adrenaline pumping, Logan steps up to her, crowding her personal space, and grazes his body against hers. He reaches out to grip a pigtail and pulls firmly, tilting her chin up. Her breath hitches, then shakily expels. Leaning down he deliberately brushes his lips against the shell of her ear as he says in a low baritone, “And you like it when I get all caveman…remember?” She shivers.

Stepping back, he gives her a once over. “You really should start wearing a sweater, Mars. That chill can’t be good for you.” 

He heads back to to the group, leaving her standing on the street. 

She scurries behind him, then blows right past him and hands what looks like a handkerchief to Wallace while she removes her mic. Catching up to the group, Logan hazards a glance at her and is gratified to see that she’s still flushed. 

“Let me see that.” Dick takes the handkerchief from Wallace and studies it. “What did you say this guys name was?” 

“Collin Nevin.” Veronica answers.

“Dude’s rich.” Dick passes the white linen square to Logan and points to the corner. 

Logan examines the coat of arms embroidered there. “Loch Nevin. Single Malt Highland Scotch. I recognize the logo.” 

Strolling over, Jackie takes a look as well. “Oh yeah, you had a bottle of that stuff in your room.” 

Staring at Veronica, Logan tells Jackie, “Still do. Wanna come over?” 

Veronica’s jaw clenches, he can practically hear her teeth grinding. “Glad we figured that out, I’ll inform my client.” She turns stiffly on her heel and stomps away, presumably back to the LeBaron. 

Jackie shakes her head. “Maybe you do have a death wish.”

Logan ignores her and smirks after Veronica. 

* * *

 

**VERONICA**

“Hiya, buddy.” Veronica leans against the counter at the Sac n’ Pac and gives Wallace a toothy grin. “How’s work going tonight?”

He smiles back at her. “Well, hello, miss. Is there anything I can help you find this lovely evening?”

She tosses a bag of Sour Patch Kids on the counter. “Slow night?”

He sighs and glances at the clock. “Yep. Only forty-five minutes left of my shift, though.”

“You got a second?”

“For girl talk? No.” He gives her a wary look and shakes his head. “Unless you’re gonna spill what’s going on with you and Echolls?”

“No.” She has an idea. “Although...I would be willing to broker a little trade of information...quid pro quo and all.”

“Veronica. Some people tell their friends what’s going on in their lives without turning it into a CIA information exchange.”

She scoffs at him. “This is nothing like the CIA.”

Wallace stares her down. 

“Alright.” His knowing brown eyes make her cave everytime. “I’m not sure what’s going on between me and Logan. I kind of...I don’t know. I actually came to talk about you and Jackie.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What about Jackie?”

“I just—from what I’ve seen, she doesn’t seem like the kind of girl for you.”

“You think she’s out of my league,” he accuses.

“No,” Veronica hurries to explain. “More the other way around. I think you’re way too good for her. Wallace, I saw her the other night on a date at Java the Hut. With another guy.”

She had debated a long time before deciding to tell Wallace about this. Jackie had obviously been on a date—not meeting a friend or something else Veronica could have misconstrued. Wallace is a big boy and he doesn’t need her to watch out for him. But Jackie...there’s no way Jackie is right for him. 

At her words, a hurt expression crosses his face. 

“I just, I just don’t want you to get your heart broken.”

He nods. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Uh…”

“I assume that’s why you’re not dating Logan even though you clearly have feelings for him.”

“Well—”

“And it’s obvious my boy is still in love with you.”

Not wanting to think about that, she latches onto the first part of statement. “Since when did he become ‘your boy’?”

“Since I was the one who let him know you didn’t die in the bus crash.”

_ Ouch _ . Veronica winces, glancing away from his pointed stare. “Yeah, I probably should have—”

“Yeah, you should have. But I know you’ve had a rough time lately and it’s not my place to forgive you for that. I’m pretty sure Echolls already has.” Wallace takes a deep breath. “Veronica, I don’t want you to get hurt, either. I know you don’t trust easily. But Logan—he seems like a pretty good guy. Everybody’s a little messed up, but—”

“I slept with him, Wallace,” she interrupts, staring down at her hands clasped on the counter. Her black nail polish is chipped and she resists the urge to pick at it. “I ended things with Duncan after the bus crash and I slept with Logan and then I called him a jackass with a death wish and ran away because I found the gun from over the summer in his room.” 

“Veronica!” When she looks up at him, Wallace’s eyes are wide.  _ He’s clearly not ready for this level of girl talk.  _

“I panicked and...I don’t know what to do. He sort of explained why he still has the gun while we were on Julie’s case Wednesday.” Her knuckles turn white as she squeezes her fingers tighter together. 

“And?”

“And it makes sense, I guess. I mean, I get why he still has it. It just...reminded me of what a trainwreck he was over the summer, what a trainwreck  _ we _ were.” She tugs at the hem of her too-short skirt to have something to fidget with. 

“You still think he’s that guy?” Wallace’s gaze bores into her, an eyebrow raised accusingly. 

“Maybe not?” 

“Veronica.” He taps his fingers in a rhythm on the check-out counter. 

_ Admit it. You thought having a guy for a best friend meant he’d never be insightful, didn’t you?  _

She sighs. 

“Okay, no, I don’t think he’s that guy. That guy burns down pools, and would have fought back last week. That guy probably would have shut me out for running, but he didn’t.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Wallace shrugs. “But he does keep showing up, Veronica. You should think about that.” 

She nods, at a loss for words. 

“Not to be more awkward, V, but where you goin’ dressed like that?” He gives her plaid mini skirt, motorcycle boots, and black leather jacket a disapproving stare.

“Wow, you sound like my dad. Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m serious. You’re dressed like you—well, what are you up to?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, Wallace, but I’m following a lead on Curly Moran.” She abandons her candy and heads to the front of the store, wanting to cut this conversation short.

“Where’s the lead taking you?” he calls after her, leaning over the counter. 

She sighs, leaning back against the glass door. “A bar up the PCH called The Road Hog.”

“By yourself? Even I know that’s a biker bar. Why would you think that’s a good idea?”

“You worry too much, Papa Bear. I promise I’ll call you when I get home.” She pushes the door open with her back and stalks out, letting it close on Wallace’s protests. 

_ Having a partner occasionally isn’t bad but the whole Babysitters’ Club doesn’t need to tag along on every little reconnaissance mission.  _

* * *

**LOGAN**

_ “Been spending most our lives, living in a gangsta’s paradise…”  _

“What up, gangsta?” Logan searches through the mini fridge one-handed. Hearing nothing, he presses the phone a more firmly to his ear. “Hello? Wallace?” 

“Don’t ever say that again.” 

Logan makes a mental note to change the ringtone. “Sorry, what’s up?” 

“She’s fine, but...” 

“What?” Dropping the Evian, he closes the fridge and heads toward his shoes. 

Wallace’s voice is almost apologetic. “She’s going to The Road Hog to question some bikers about Curly.” 

He pauses halfway out the door. “She  _ what _ ?” 

* * *

Logan pulls up to The Road Hog in time to see a flip of blonde hair and an expanse of milky thigh disappear through the front door. He hustles out of the car, engages the Xterra car alarm, and sprints for the entrance. 

He barely has time to take in the dim lighting, sticky floors, and tacky Harley Davidson signs before he spots Veronica standing in the middle of the room, looking around with a predatory gleam. 

She’s so determined, she’s forgetting to read the room. Usually a keen observer of the human condition, right now she’s completely oblivious to the assessing stares and greedy looks she’s getting from a clientele that probably can’t even spell the word “consent,” let alone respect it. The Curly situation must be getting to her more than she’s let on. 

Taking stock of the room, Logan chooses his strategy.  “I know I’m late. Sorry, Honey!” 

Veronica’s attention diverts to him and her eyes narrow. He pecks her check and whispers in her ear, “Yes, Wallace called me. Play along.”

Before she can open her mouth, he pulls her toward an empty corner and pushes her against the wall, placing himself in front of her to shield her from the room. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hisses. 

“Shut up. And before you kick me, look over my shoulder.” 

She's too short to look  _ over _ his shoulder, she pulls him a little closer and leans her head on his chest. He angles them slightly to give her a better view of the room.

“Those three guys over by the… is that a cigarette machine? They still have those?” He shakes his head. “Sorry. Anyway, my guess is they’re taking bets on who can take you home.” She doesn't say anything, but she doesn’t pull away either. 

He keeps going. “You see the bald guy in desperate need of a shower—by the bar? The one still trying to get a peek at you? He doesn’t seem the type to ask permission. Or what about the—”

“Okay, I get it,” she mumbles into his chest. She still doesn’t sound scared. He needs her to understand. She can’t keep doing shit like this. 

He reaches up and cradles her chin with his fingertips, tilting her head so he can look into her eyes. “Look, I know we’re not… but… I can’t lose you Veronica. I can’t.” He can hear the desperation in his own voice, but can’t bring himself to care. He softly strokes her lower lip with his thumb. 

“Logan…” Her voice is hoarse and she’s giving the look that makes him feel like she’s starving and he’s chocolate. The look that makes him instantly hard. He realizes it the same instant she does—the moment recognition dawn across her face—and he moves his lower body back a fraction to put some space between them. 

But instead of deflecting or running, to his surprise, she pulls him closer, pushes up on her toes, and rubs herself against him. Like a cat. He swears he can hear her purr. 

She says his name again, and this time it sounds like a plea. She’s going to kill him. He’s going to die in a biker bar without a scratch on him. 

_ Fuck it.  _

He bends down and slowly licks the tendon on the side of her neck, then gently scrapes his teeth on the spot he knows makes her babble. When she strains against him he runs his palms down the front of her skirt and under the hem. Not too high—he knows they’re in public—but enough to feel the wetness on her thighs. He groans in her ear and she starts purring again, soft tiny moans that reverberate through his body straight to his groin. He’s ready to suggest they move this elsewhere (like a very large bed in a currently empty hotel suite), when a voice he recognizes interrupts them.

“Why am I not surprised.”

“Hi, Weevil.” Veronica’s voice is shaky, and her palms are pressed to the wall behind her as if she’s trying to hold herself steady. Logan bangs his forehead on the wall next to her.  _ Why is this his life? _

“You’ve got some nerve, Veronica, hanging out here and bringing him with you.” Weevil gestures disgustedly at Logan. 

Logan immediately puts himself between her and Weevil. She places a hand on his arm, barely preventing bloodshed. 

“To be fair, I didn’t bring him.”

“What are you doing here, V?”

“We need to talk, but first, where’s the bathroom?” 

She can’t be serious. “Veronica…”

“Relax, Logan. You can come guard the door if it makes you feel better.”

“Fine. Let’s go.” He follows her lead towards the pink neon ladies room sign. 

An exasperated Weevil calls after them, “I’ll just wait here then.”

* * *

**VERONICA**

Veronica closes the bathroom door and resists the temptation to rest her head against it. It looks… sticky.  _ Yuck _ . She needs one minute. One stupid minute to collect herself. Her heart is racing and her body is still trembling. 

She stands in front of the sink and takes stock of her flushed face, her mused hair. She looks… satisfied? Smug? Happy? Better. Better than she ever has with Duncan. She’s tired of fighting this.  _ Hasn’t he proven he’s changed? Haven’t you proven you haven’t? You tried, but normal bores the shit out of you, Veronica. Besides, didn’t we all just discover life’s short? _

Splashing water on her face, she gingerly pulls down a paper towel with two fingers and pats her cheeks dry. She and Logan are going to deal with this tonight.  _ But first, let’s see if you can find out who wants to implicate you in Curly’s murder. _

Veronica and Logan walk back to the main room in silence and find Weevil where they left him. She glances around but most of the patrons have stopped paying attention to them. “I’m looking for information on a guy named Curly Moran.”

Recognition flashes in Weevil’s eyes but he looks away, trying to hide it. “And what, you were just going to sidle up to the bar and flip your hair, drop his name and hope for the best?”

_ Yes, that was the majority of the strategy _ . 

“What do you know about him? Don’t try to hide it, I can tell you know something.”  When she’s met with stony silence, she continues. “This is how it works. Tell me and I’ll owe you. I always pay up.”

She ignores the way Logan’s body stiffens at her comment. 

Weevil sighs. “I’ll let Pretty Boy buy me a drink and then we can chat. And yes, you will definitely owe me.”

“You think I’m pretty? Aw, Weevs, I’m flattered.” Logan bats his eyelashes but Veronica shoots him a look, clearly indicating he should do as ordered as she follows Weevil to a corner booth in the back of the bar. The words ‘Shut Up and Drink’ are scrawled in permanent marker across their scarred table.  _ Lovely sentiment _ .

Logan slides into the seat next to her, setting a bottle of tequila and three shot glasses down on the table in front of them. He puts his arm around her protectively, never taking his gaze off Weevil.

Weevil pours his shot and tosses it back, grimacing. “What, no limes?”

“They were out.” Logan shrugs. “Now, tell Veronica what she wants to know so we can never bother you at this fine establishment again.” He glares at her but she ignores it and looks at Weevil expectantly.

“Nope. You’re not welcome here, Pretty Boy. You’re lucky I haven’t kicked your ass just for showing up.”

Logan’s arm tightens, palm curling around her shoulder. “Dream on. I’m not leaving her here with you.”

“Gentlemen.” Veronica rolls her eyes. “Macho posturing is outdated.” She turns to Weevil. “Logan stays.” 

He relaxes fractionally next to her. Weevil offers her a shot but she declines.  _ You’re having a hard enough time focusing after that—kiss? Encounter? Moment? Whatever it was when you couldn’t keep your paws off him. Better not throw tequila into the mix.  _

Logan takes one, though, clinking glasses with Weevil. “A truce.”

“Lucky for you, this isn’t my usual watering hole.”

Veronica looks around and notes the absence of his entourage. 

“And where are your minions tonight?”

“One question at a time, V. If I told you that, well, you’d owe me way more than a favor.”

She raises an eyebrow but lets it pass. “Okay. What do you know about Curly Moran?”

“I don’t—didn’t—really know the guy.” Weevil shrugs. “I mean, I knew him by reputation. Curly was a good mechanic. But Symbolic Motors deals with a different type of clientele than Angel’s shop.”

Weevil sends a pointed glance in Logan’s direction, and yeah, she knows what he means. The high-end garage where Logan took his car is a far cry from the chop shop run by Weevil’s uncle. She tries not to dwell on the no-doubt stolen parts that hold her LeBaron together. 

“Do you have any helpful information for me at all? Because right now, this isn’t feeling worthy of a favor.”

Weevil glances around, but their booth is secluded and no one else is paying any attention to them. 

“Look, V, this is the kind of information…” He glares at Logan. “If it makes its way back to the Sheriff, I’m gonna bash Pretty Boy’s face in first and ask questions later.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Logan’s voice is low and dangerous. It shouldn’t turn her on, but it does. She squeezes her thighs together under the table to attempt to stop the throbbing that’s going on there.

Veronica scoffs. “Like we’d go to Lamb with anything.”

“I’m serious. You break my trust on this one, I break him.”

She claps her hand over Logan’s mouth—whatever he was going to say couldn’t have been helpful—and waves Weevil’s threats away. 

“Spill it.”

He sighs. “Like I said, this isn’t the bar we normally visit. But a few days after the bus crash, one of my boys got a call, said Curly was responsible for sending the bus over the cliff. I was there with you, Veronica, saw everything you did. Cervando was on the bus, man, we had to take care of Curly.”

Weevil meets her stare and she sees anger and sadness reflected there. 

“You...had to...take care of him? Did you—did you kill him?” Logan whispers. 

Weevil’s eyes widen. “No, no. We just, uh, interrogated him a little.” He cracks his knuckles. “Asked some questions, roughed him up a bit.”

Veronica’s mind is racing. “What did you learn?”

“Not much.”

At her glare, Weevil continues. “Seriously, V. We found him here at The Road Hog, got him out back. He claimed to have nothing to do with the bus crash. We threw a few punches, he never changed his story. But he was alive when we left him.”

“Which one of your...associates...received this phone call?” Logan asks, sneering. 

“I tried to call it back, there was no answer.”

“Good detecting, Sherlock. Who got the call?”

“He’s clearly not Sherlock in this scenario,” Logan mutters and she squeezes his knee in warning. 

Weevil stares at his hands, fiddles with his shot glass. Finally, he answers. “It was Thumper.”

Veronica shares a look with Logan, jerks her head in the direction of the door. 

“Thanks for your help, Weevil,” she says as Logan scoots out of the booth. “Till next time.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He pours himself another shot. “And V?”

She pauses, partway off the bench. 

“Don’t come here again, chica. You’re trouble waiting to happen.”

Veronica shoots him a glare but Logan tugs on her arm, pulling her out the door and into the parking lot. The gravel crunches beneath their feet as he fumes in silence until they reach his XTerra. 

He spins to face her and grabs her shoulders, pushing her back against the passenger side of the car so he can see her face. 

“I hope you’re happy; you got what you wanted. But, god, Veronica!” He explodes, shaking. “I still can’t believe you came here alone! I thought we agreed—no more working cases by yourself.”

“I never agreed to that! I was fine.”

“You were fine because I was here, and because Weevil was here. You were fine because we got lucky. Remember those guys in there? I can’t believe you think I’m the one with the death wish. What if something had happened to you?”

She reaches out, gently, and strokes Logan’s face with her fingertips.  _ He really does care about you, Veronica.  _ “You don’t have a death wish. I can see that now. I’m sorry I said those things.”

Veronica pushes up on her tiptoes and brushes her lips against his. Her body is still tingling from their kiss inside the bar and every sensation is heightened. At her touch, he crushes her to him, lifting her and pressing her between his body and the Xterra. She winds her arms around his neck and wraps her legs around his waist. The kiss is bruising, she’s practically biting him in her earnestness to get closer to him, and she’s panting when he pulls away. 

Logan shakes his head. “No, we can’t keep doing this, Veronica.  _ I _ can’t keep doing this.”

She slides down his body and back to solid ground. “I know. I’m sorry, Logan. I freaked out, okay? I know I don’t deserve a second chance.” Taking a deep breath, she continues. “I got it wrong, but I sure as hell won’t make that mistake again. You’re not a jackass with a death wish. I shouldn’t have said that.” She laughs a little. “Well, you’re still a jackass. But you’re my jackass.” 

He gives her a little kiss, firm and quick. “Are you saying—you were wrong about something, Veronica Mars?”

“Jackass,” she shoots back.

He gives her another kiss, slightly longer this time. “And are you saying you’d like to date me? For longer than the twelve hours you’re going to spend in my bed tonight?”

“Seriously. You are such an asshole.”

This time he kisses her until she’s dizzy, grabbing onto him so she doesn’t fall over. “Yes, yes. I want to date you. Should I worry that it turns you on when I call you names like that?”

“Shut up,” he mumbles against her mouth.

“Make me,” she challenges, and is rewarded by another kiss. He peels her jacket off her arms and shoulders and when she climbs his body, his hands slide under her mini skirt to cup her ass. He’s hard beneath her and she’s wet, so wet and ready for him.

“Logan,” she pants as she breaks off the kiss. “We’re in the parking lot. Of a biker bar.”

“Right.” She’s gratified to note his breath is coming fast, too. He fumbles in his jeans pocket, pulling out the keys to his car. With a beep, he unlocks it, opens the door, and deposits her in the backseat, before grabbing her jacket off the ground and tossing it to her. He climbs in after and closes the door.

Then his lips are on her neck as he palms her breasts.  _ Too bad you wore a bra tonight. Gonna have to stop doing that in the future _ . Logan must be thinking the same thing, though, because he quickly unsnaps it and then rubs his thumbs across her nipples. 

Veronica straddles his lap, moaning low in her throat, and rubs against the bulge in his jeans. He pulls his lips off her neck, panting. “I’m incredibly glad you’re wearing a skirt right about now.”

_ Well, there’s a point in your favor for that fashion choice, at least _ . She nods and frantically fumbles with his zipper. Logan shifts around, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and retrieving a condom, which he tears open with his teeth. He helps her with his zipper and then rolls the condom down his length. 

Pushing aside her underwear, Veronica sinks down on top of him, hissing out a breath as he fills her. 

“Ahhh.” Logan throws his head back against the seat rest. “God, you feel good. When you—”

She silences him with a kiss, pressing her mouth against his and delving inside with her tongue. She rocks against him, letting her pleasure build. His hands anchor her, one on the small of her back and one flicking rhythmically against her clit, and god, it builds quickly, not taking much before her muscles clench and spasm around him, and waves of pleasure radiate out from her core. She can feel it everywhere, from her toes to the top of her head. Her orgasm surges through her and Veronica grabs his head, running her fingers through his hair, breaking their kiss as she cries out. Logan thrusts into her, once, twice more, before grabbing her hips and coming, with a “Fuuuuuck, Veronica.”

She gasps, catching her breath, and rests her forehead against his. “Yeah, that was basically the idea.”

He huffs a laugh against her cheek. “God, that was…”

“Yeah.”

Logan shifts her, sliding out and taking care of the condom. He settles her back across his lap and cuddles her close, tucking her head under his chin and holding her tightly.

She relaxes into him, breathing deeply and letting the delicious afterglow fill her body. Her muscles are heavy and she’s so suffused with happiness she might start giggling. 

After she catches her breath, she mumbles into Logan’s chest, “Were you serious about the twelve hours in your bed thing?”

“I never joke about that, Veronica.”

 


	5. The Joy of Deeds Well Done

 

**LOGAN**

“You’ve reached Logan Echolls, and here’s today’s inspirational message: ‘True happiness comes from the joy of deeds well done.’ Antoine de Saint-Exupery.”

Outgoing message recorded, Logan snaps his phone closed and glances at the ugly fish-themed alarm clock trying to pass for decor at The Grand. 5:30am.

“You’re such a Jackass.” Veronica’s muffled voice comes from beneath the covers where her cheek rests on the bed next to his torso. Only the top of her head is visible.

“Looks like someone needs a reminder of just how well I do the deed.” He tosses the phone onto the carpet, and shimmys down under the covers until they’re laying on their sides nose-to-nose.

She’s conveniently sans clothes, and his heated gaze holds hers as he trails his hand down the side of her breast and over her stomach. Moving lower, he slips one digit inside her, where she’s wet and ready. He curls his finger and adds another, grinning to himself as she moans and her hips start rocking in time with his hand. Thrusting leisurely, content to watch her building bliss, he brings her up slowly, eyes tracing her face.

If the first time she came to him was a gift, then this time—this version of her that has conviction in his worth and admits when she’s wrong—must be here by his invocation, his most fervent wish. He wants to trust it...to trust her. To strangle the nagging doubt that if he steps out of the lines she sets she’ll leave him again, so he focuses on her.

He captures her lips and indulges himself with a languid kiss, moving his hand a fraction faster. His heart constricts as she responds. She’s beautiful like this, head tilted back, mouth slightly open, unabashedly abandoning herself to his pleasure-fueled whims. It makes him hungry for more.

He coats his thumb in her wetness and applies precise pressure to her clit, stroking over it in soft circles the way she likes. Working her body towards the moment when her brain shuts off and all of her instincts convince her to rely on him.

She’s frenzied now, all tongue and teeth, as she licks into his mouth and grinds down on his hand.

“Logan!” At her guttural cry he gentles his touch. He needs her so badly now it’s all he can do not to roll them over and sink into her. Instead he bides his time, riding the orgasm out with her, barely moving his hand as she convulses around it.

When she calms, he slips his hand out, and—catching her attention—licks his fingers clean.

His Bobcat growls at him. Actually growls. “That’s it. My turn.”

He rolls onto his back with a meek, “Be gentle with me. I’m delicate.”

As she kisses her way down his body, Logan fleetingly wonders how long he’ll get to keep her this time, but he pushes the thought aside and closes his eyes, letting sensation overtake him, losing himself in her.

Later, she wedges her head under his chin, and snuggles in deep. While her breathing evens out and her body slackens, just before he succumbs to sleep, Logan allows himself to believe. Maybe this time they will get it right.

He doesn’t stir again until almost 10am. Veronica is still sleeping and Logan takes the opportunity to study her placid features. She’s almost always in motion, a quirked lip, a raised eyebrow, a dramatic gesture. It’s rare to see her still. She looks peaceful, happy.

And he’s happy, too. He _is._ This time will be different. He’s worked hard to change his reckless, knee-jerk reactions. Veronica knows that. She asked him for the second chance. They’re on the same page.

Stalling, Logan flips onto his back. Staring at the ceiling he debates with himself, shower or no shower. His body is sticky, and he really wants to brush his teeth, but...maybe he should wake her up and they can shower together.

No, he’s being ridiculous.The apprehension he’s feeling is just residual anxiety. He shouldn't be afraid to take a shower. She didn’t run because he was in the shower. She ran because… because she doesn’t know how to ask a fucking question.

“Veronica, wake up.” He nudges her shoulder, and her lips part, corners curving softly upward as her lids flutter open.

“Too sore.” She croaks and tries to snuggle closer.

“We need to talk.”

His serious tone must catch her attention. She shoots up, clutching the blanket to her bare chest.

“About what?” She watches him with wide, guarded eyes, the sheet a shield against his presumed attack.

Logan sits up to face her on the bed, using the short time to calm himself and arrange his words carefully. He doesn’t want to mess this up, but he wasn’t lying yesterday when he told her that he couldn't do this anymore. This back and forth will kill him.

Taking a deep breath, he keeps his voice even.“I appreciate everything you said last night. We both want things to be different this time, and I know you can’t promise not to freak out occasionally. I get that, I know how you’re wired. But Veronica, you can’t run from me anymore. You can’t...I can’t... I need you to _talk_ to me when you’re upset with me _._ ”

Veronica opens her mouth to protest, before snapping it closed.

“I’m not always good at that. Talking.”

Okay. Okay, she’s listening. This is good, _different_. Progress. So maybe he can push the honesty a little further. It’s not like he hasn’t been thinking about this for over a year.

“Here’s what I don’t get. You talk to everyone else.”

Veronica’s brow furrows in obvious confusion, and Logan expounds on his point.

“You confronted Jake Kane when you thought he hired someone to kill you, or at least threatened to kill you, with those photographs that literally painted a target on you. You went to a federal prison and accused a convicted murderer of being a patsy. You accused Weevil of murder when you found out he stole that pen from Lilly’s room.”

“I didn’t _accuse—_ “

At his narrowed stare she clamps her lips together.

“Fine, you didn’t accuse. You heavily implied. But me, you have me arrested without bothering to talk to me. You’ve run away without any explanation, more than once…. And did you honestly think I had state-of-the-art surveillance equipment installed in the pool house without even my parents realizing it?”

_Oops. He hadn’t meant for that to slip out. Guess he’s been holding on to that one for a while._

“I didn’t know what to think.” She defends, conveniently only addressing his last question.

He presses. “Why is it that everyone else gets your fight response, but with me you always choose flight?”

She shifts, centering on a point over his right ear. “Everyone else is...” she jerks her shoulder in a half shrug. “But you…matter. So I…” He waits patiently as she trails off, clearly lost in thought.

Suddenly, her gaze swings back to his, and her voice is resolute. “I can’t promise I’ll do it perfectly. But I promise I’ll try. And...I won’t run.”

There’s a gleam of determination in her and his tension abates. He didn’t realize... This is what he’s been looking for from her. He wants her to have the same dogged passion for _them_ that she seems to have for her cases. He wants their relationship to elicit that battle gleam in her eyes, to be worth fighting for.

He thinks he sees it this time, and his gut is telling him to trust it. Maybe that makes him an idiot. Maybe that makes him a masochist. Maybe that’s just how he loves.

“Thank you, Veronica. And I can’t promise not to be a jackass.” She snorts. “But I promise not to do anything that remotely looks like I have a death wish.”

She raises her brows, prompting him to elaborate, ”I scared myself, too, Veronica. The pool fire, and the gun, and after the crash I thought…. I promise. Okay?”

“Okay,” she replies softly.

He leans over and kisses her forehead. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Her lips form a sly grin and she drops the blanket at her chest. “Want company?”

* * *

******VERONICA**

“Hey, buddy.” Veronica can’t keep the happiness off her face as she leans against Wallace’s locker. He retrieves his books and pulls his head out of the small compartment, giving her an odd look.

“What?” she asks as he continues his scrutiny.

“You—you’re smiling.”

She scoffs. “Am not.”

“And you never called me back on Friday night.”

She’s about to apologize when he cuts her off, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“You and Echolls.” He snaps his fingers. “That’s why you’re so smiley.”

“Um.” Veronica bites her lip, not sure what to say to her best friend.

“You’re welcome.” His tone is smug.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, I’m the one who called him and told him where to find you. So, you’re welcome.”

She should scold him for meddling, she really should. But instead, she links her arm through his as they walk to class.

“Thanks, Wallace. Looks like I’m gonna owe you two favors.”

“Uh-oh.” He stops in the middle of the hallway, pulling her to a halt as well and forcing everyone else to walk around them. “What does that mean?”

“Just a teansy little thing I need your help with.” She holds her thumb and index finger an inch apart. “You’re Wallace Fennel of the Neptune High Homecoming Court. I heard you’re a sure bet for King. It’ll be no big whoop for you.”

He narrows his eyes.

“All I need,” Veronica continues, breezy, “is for you to borrow some Kane Software stationary from your mom at work.”

“And by ‘borrow,’” he puts the word in air quotes, “you mean steal?”

“Please,” she scoffs. “It’s just paper. Blank paper.”

“Veronica, remember what happened the last time I used my mom’s work connections to help you out?”

“I know, buddy, but it’s not for me, it’s for my dad.”

She tugs his arm and they start walking down the hall again toward Mrs. Murphy’s room.

“After that DUI thing came out about Ed Doyle, he needs a little help, a little advantage.”

“Is this illegal? Because I will not—”

Wallace’s voice starts to rise and she claps her hand over his mouth.

“Not illegal. At least, not on your end. Just get me some paper, Wallace, please?”

He sighs, then nods, and she removes her hand. “All right. But you owe me.”

“Yeah, I know. I owe you double.” _You’re gonna need a list to keep track of all the favors you’ve handed out lately, Veronica._ “Thanks, Wallace.”

“V? It’s nice to see you happy.”

She smiles again but notices that Wallace seems distracted. He’s not meeting her eyes. “Buddy? You okay? If you really don’t want to do the paper thing, I’m sure I can figure—”

“No, it’s not that.” He sighs and glances around the hallway before quickly pulling her into a deserted classroom.

“I—I don’t know how to say this. But I had something weird happen. This guy came by my house, and, and told me that he’s my dad. His name’s Nathan Woods.”

Veronica’s mouth drops open. She swallows and tries to school her features as he explains.

“He and my mom were married, I guess, and she never told me because he wasn’t a good guy. Corrupt cop, dealing drugs, stuff like that. They were divorced before he knew she was pregnant.”

“Oh my god, Wallace. What—how—how are you doing?”

“I don’t know. I was just shocked at first, right? Then I had a chance to talk to my mom. I was pretty pissed at her but, I don’t know. My dad, the guy I thought was my dad, he was a good man. A great father. So it’s hard to be mad about that.”

He clears his throat. “Veronica, he asked me to move to Chicago with him.”

“What? Are you—are you gonna go?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really want to. I don’t know him at all.” He runs his hands over his hair. “But he’s my dad and I don’t know him at all. Maybe I should.”

“I—I don’t know what to tell you, Wallace. Obviously you need to do what’s right for you.” She gives him a quick hug. “Of course, I will be heartbroken if you leave.”

He chuckles. “Nah. Now that you have Echolls, you wouldn’t even notice.”

She links her arm through his and pulls him out of the classroom. “That’s where you’re wrong. My boyfriend could never replace my BFF.”

* * *

Veronica fluffs her hair in front of the bathroom mirror. Wallace wasn’t lying—she really is having a hard time keeping the smile off her face. Must be all that great sex she had with her boyfriend this weekend. _And the new strides towards communication don’t hurt, either. Turns out knowing where things stand is kinda hot, too._

“Hey, Veronica, do you have a second?”

She glances up to see Jackie hovering behind her and nods.

“Okay, I know we don’t know each other super well yet…” Jackie twists her hands together. “But I saw you and Logan this morning. In his car.”

Jackie raises her eyebrows pointedly and Veronica blushes. She had let him give her a ride to school and then, well, things had maybe gotten a little out of hand in the backseat. She was pretty sure they had kept their clothes on, though. _Mostly._

“Oh, sorry about that.” She can’t bring herself to be genuinely sorry about anything as she thinks back over Logan’s hands...Logan’s lips…

“No, it’s just that...Veronica, I haven’t really made a lot of friends here yet. In fact, pretty much just Logan. And as my only friend, I’d feel terrible if he got his heart broken.”

“You’re one to talk,” Veronica shoots back defensively. “You didn’t seem super concerned about Wallace’s feelings when I saw you at the Hut with another guy.”

Jackie frowns. “I take it you told him?”

Veronica crosses her arms over her chest and nods.

“I screwed that up, didn’t I?” She sighs. “Wallace is a good guy, probably too good for me. He told me this morning that we should just be friends and...he’s probably right. But you and Logan…?”

“Are you asking me about my intentions?”

“Um, yeah. I guess I am.”

Jackie takes a deep breath and holds herself up straight, not backing down, and Veronica bristles, sensing that Jackie’s pretty exterior hides a core of steel.

“But you—the Pride and Prejudice thing. Did you really not know what you were doing when you threw us together? You didn’t seem all that worried then.”

“I’ll admit, I did that on purpose. I thought I was helping him out. But Logan—I’ve seen the way he takes care of his friends—like with that case you had last week. He deserves someone who’s gonna look out for him, too. Not someone who’s just there for an off-again on-again thing when it’s convenient.” Jackie leans towards the mirror, applying her lip gloss flawlessly and pursing her mouth at her reflection.

“I’m not—that’s not what this is,” Veronica defends herself hotly. “I mean, maybe it took me a few tries to figure it out but I’m not gonna jerk him around like that.” _Like Lilly,_ she thinks to herself.

“He deserves so much better than that.” Her voice comes out softer, breathier than she intended as she thinks about Logan and she clears her throat. _Oh, god, you’re getting all moony over him._ “I mean—”

Jackie laughs. “You’re as far gone as he is, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Veronica tries, unsuccessfully, to regain some dignity. Then something else occurs to her. “Wait, you don’t have feelings for him, do you?”

“Relax, girl. I don’t want to steal your man.” She shakes her head. “Your best friend’s a guy; surely you can understand that I can be friends with him without wanting to date him.”

Veronica shrugs. “I understand in theory but not in practice.”

At Jackie’s confused look, she elaborates.

“I don’t want to date Wallace; that’s practically gross. So I understand the sentiment...but Logan...I can’t imagine being friends with him without wanting to date him.”

“But you—”

“I know.” Veronica shrugs. “But the good news is, I do know by now that he’s worth it.”

A small smile crosses Jackie’s features. “Well, good. I should—”

“And Jackie?”

“Yeah?”

Veronica stares hard at her for a second, weighing her options and making up her mind. “The Homecoming Dance is this weekend. Logan and I are going together, some other friends, too. Wallace is on the court. I don’t know if you have a date or anything, but you should join us.”

_Look at you trying, Veronica, No irrational jealousy here._

“Thanks, Veronica. That’s really nice of you. How about I meet you there?”

The smile that spreads across Jackie’s features reassures Veronica that it was the right call. _No one will ever replace Lilly...but maybe Jackie’s not so bad._

* * *

**LOGAN**

“You sure we can do this here?” Wallace’s RC plane makes a wide loop, then flies in a lazy arc toward the ocean.

“For the last time, yes. What are they going to do, kick us off the beach?” Logan’s trying to fly his plane with the same ease as Wallace, but he’s struggling. The controls are backwards, so when he tries to go up, the plane goes down and vice versa. The result is a drunken sort of bob and weave.

“Sorry if I’m a little sensitive. You never know what can happen out here in the wild. Maybe I’m still traumatized from the last time I went flying. Did you hear about that? Some psychotic jackass busted my friend’s headlights with a crowbar.”

Logan winces and accidentally knocks the joystick causing his plane to brush the sand. “Yeah, about that…”

Wallace laughs lightly. “I’m just messing, man. Bygones.” He assures him.

“Well, that’s why we’re here at the beautiful Cape Crescent Beach in the prestigious ‘09. No vandalism, no hoodlums.”

“You too good for Dog Beach?”

“If you haven’t noticed, the population of Dog Beach aren’t exactly in my fan club.” Apart from walking into The Road Hog to make sure Veronica didn’t die, Logan has been diligently avoiding bikers. How better to prove he doesn’t have a death wish?

“For real, though, what’s going on with you and the PCHers?”

“Oh, you know.” He waves a hand airily. “Suspected of murder. Walking gang target. Just another Tuesday.”

Wallace apparently doesn’t have a response for that. As the silence stretches on, Logan fills the lull with, “So you really haven’t flown one of these things since last year?”

Wallace grasps the subject change. “Well, Veronica keeps me kind of busy.”

“Yeah. Me too.” The smirk threatens to overtake his face.

Wallace groans. “Nah. Man, come on. No. That girl’s practically my sister. There _is_ such a thing as too much information.”

Logan sobers. “My dear Wallace, your _brotherly_ relationship with my girl is one of the things I like best about you.”

Tired of his plane eating sand, Logan throws the controller down, and plops into one of the bright orange beach chairs he brought with him. Searching through his cooler for a Skist he prods, “So what’s going on with you and Jackie?”

“We’re friends. I mean she’s cool, and hot, but that girl has ‘complicated’ written all over her. I got enough going on, I don’t need to add to the drama.”

Worried, Logan endeavors to reassure, “Hey, listen. Veronica and I are good now, and we would never put you in the middle—“

“God, you two are… she’s suddenly smiling all day at school and you think everything is about your love life.”

Intrigued, Logan sits up. “She was smiling? All day?”

“Logan.”

“Sorry. Drama, you say?”

“Nothing...shitty dad stuff.” Wallace gives up on his plane and sits down next to Logan, plucking a bottled water from the cooler between them.

Logan perks up. “I know all about shitty dads!” _Wait…_. “But, uh, isn’t your dad, um, dead?”

“Yeah, the thing is, he’s not.” Wallace fixates on the ocean, absently tearing at the label on his water bottle.

He seems reluctant to share so Logan leans closer, “Did your bio dad also have an affair with your girlfriend, murder her, then threaten to rape your new girlfriend and try to kill her too?”

Rolling his eyes, Wallace fills him in on the sordid details, balling up tiny pieces of the Poland Spring logo and flicking them away as he relays his tale.

When he falls silent Logan lets out a low whistle.

“Yeah, my moms didn’t even tell me. He wants me to go with him back to Chicago.”

“You gonna go?”

“Nah, I don’t think so.” The label on Wallace’s bottle is gone now, and he finally meets Logan’s eyes. “Too much going on around here. Gotta keep you and Supafly outta trouble.”

Logan holds out his fist, and Wallace bumps it, wiggling his fingers at the end. Logan copies, then closes his fingers and twists his wrist for a vertical pound, which Wallace meets flawlessly. Four moves in, Logan notices the hour on his watch.

“Hey! Almost dance time. Gotta get pretty. Let’s go get our nails done!”

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you're actually making me do this.” Wallace grumbles, watching the woman pushing back his cuticles with distrust.

In the chair next to him, Logan regards Wallace curiously. “‘I said ‘let’s go get our nails done,’ what part of that was confusing?”

“The part where we actually get our nails done.” Looking around the salon for the hundredth time, Wallace adds, “What if someone sees me?”

“Business men do it all the time. Calm down, man. This is supposed to be relaxing.” Logan closes his eyes as his nail technician massages his hands. “Plus, think how good our secret handshake is going to look with our manicures.”

Wallace mumbles to himself, and continues to scan the salon’s clientele.

"If you’re that worried, I’ll have the concierge send someone to the suite next time.”

“Next time?”

* * *

 

**VERONICA**

“You look beautiful, honey.” Her dad’s eyes are full of affection as he takes in her burgundy halter dress. The A-line cut and high neckline flatter her small frame but the back—just two horizontal straps and the implication that there’s nothing else underneath the beaded bodice—is solely for Logan. The tulle skirt hits mid-thigh and twirls satisfyingly out from her body as she does a little spin for her father.

“You think?”

He pulls her into his arms and kisses the top of her head. “Mmmhmm. But—Logan? Again? What’s going on there?”

Veronica stiffens and pulls away. “Dad, you don’t understand—”

“Listen, Veronica,” he interrupts her. “I’m not gonna tell you who you’re allowed to date. But there were some things that happened this summer—I know Logan has his qualities, but there’s a darkness in that kid. I just don’t trust him.”

She sighs. _You should have known there would need to be damage control._ “This summer...yeah, Logan didn’t always make the best choices. But he’s been through a lot, Dad, and he’s changed.”

“Honey.” Her dad’s eyes turn from skeptical to serious. “When I came in the apartment that time, he was yelling at you and smashing our furniture. Again, I won’t tell you who to date but I won’t let you be with someone who might hurt you.”

“Logan would never hurt me.” Her voice is soft. “You said he has his qualities? Well, one of them is that he’s probably more protective than you are.”

“Oh.” Her dad blinks rapidly, obviously surprised to hear this.

“Don’t worry, I’m not replacing you.” She gives him a quick hug. “And when he comes to pick me up, be nice.”

Keith is about to say something—argue, probably—but she cuts him off.

“Since we’re in a sharing mood, how about you tell me what’s going on with you and Alicia?”

He raises his eyebrows. “There’s nothing to tell. We had a lovely time together in Chi-town a few weeks ago. Things are good.”

“What about all the stuff with Wallace’s bio dad?”

Keith nods. “Good relationships are based on honesty, sweetheart. Alicia was very upfront about what was going on and I’m here to support her.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Veronica finishes filling her tiny clutch purse for the night when there’s a knock on the door.

“Be nice,” she hisses again as her dad rolls his eyes, moving towards the door.

“Veronica. Your gentleman caller has arrived,” he hollers as he opens the door, never taking his eyes off Logan.

“I know, Dad. I’m right behind you. I can see Logan.”

Logan gulps and holds out his hand for Keith to shake. “Mr. Mars. I was hoping to have a chance to talk to you.”

If talking to her dad about Logan inspired panic in her heart, it’s nothing compared to how she feels now. She shakes her head vigorously and draws her finger across her neck. Logan ignores her as he steps inside.

His eyes bounce around before he takes a deep breath and manages to look at her father. “I put Veronica in danger this summer and I’m sorry. I’m going to do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

Keith gives Logan a long look before clapping him on the shoulder. “Easier said than done. She’s a magnet for danger.”

Surprise flickers across Logan’s face. “Um—”

“Thanks, Dad. Love you, too.” She grabs Logan’s arm with one hand and her overnight bag off the floor with the other, attempting to pull him out the door before her dad can say anything else. _No such luck._

“I think not, darling daughter.” Keith slams the door shut. “Where are you spending the night, again?”

“I already told you, I’m staying with Mac.” She rolls her eyes and tries to sell it. _Clearly he’s not ready to know that you’re really staying with Logan tonight._

“Alright, I’ll be sure to drive by unexpectedly and check on you.” Logan stiffens next to her. Hopefully her dad doesn’t notice.

“I’ll call you after Logan drops me off at her house if it makes you feel better.”

He opens the door and places a kiss on her forehead. “Acceptable. Go cheer for Wallace and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

The dance is in full swing when they arrive, having been distracted for a solid half hour parked in the backseat of the Xterra.

“Why are we actually going to the dance, again?” Logan complains as he buys their tickets at the door and puts his hand on the small of her back to escort her inside. His thumb brushes over her bare flesh and she shivers. “I thought we could just go to the beach, have a limo party.”

“There’s no limo.”

“Have a backseat party, then.” He bobs his eyebrows at her suggestively.

“Maybe later, stud. Right now, we need to go to the dance to support Wallace. Remember Wallace? Your new friend?”

She links her fingers through his as they survey the gymnasium. Apparently Student Council thought that sparkles would cover up the fact that it’s a gym—there’s no real theme, just lots and lots of glitter and twinkling lights. Unfortunately, their efforts are unsuccessful. _Yep, still a gym._

“Right. Wallace.” Logan nods. “Although I have a confession to make: he’s gonna win. Now can we go to the beach?”

“Logan!” She swats his arm playfully. “How many kneecaps did you break to make that happen?”

“Only, like, four. Totally worth it for my new friend.”

“Speak of the devil.” Veronica spots Wallace across the gym and tugs Logan’s hand, making their way over to him.

“Hey, man.” Logan and Wallace execute a complicated handshake while Veronica zeros in on their fingers suspiciously.

Curling his nails towards his palms and out of sight, Wallace throws his arm around her shoulder. “So! Did you hear your boy is staying in Neptune?”

“I’m so glad,” she whispers to him. He gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“Echolls alone can’t keep you out of trouble. It’s a team effort.”

“Veronica Protection Squad?” Logan grins at Wallace but Veronica is distracted. Jackie’s a few tables away but...something doesn’t seem right. Loose-limbed, she stumbles from the table into a chair, and lands on the floor. Veronica hurries over to check on her.

“Jackie? Jackie, are you okay?” She sinks down onto her knees as Wallace and Logan come up behind her.

Slowly, Jackie turns her head towards the sound of Veronica’s voice. She blinks, dazed, but her eyes are unfocused.

“Jackie?” Veronica looks up at Logan, and his face is full of concern. He pulls Jackie up and inspects her eyes—pupils blown wide and vacant.

“Jackie.” He shakes her gently. “Did you take something?”

“Logan?” Jackie giggles. “Goldilocks told me you’re just right!”

“Um...Did you take something?” He asks again.

She shakes her head no, and starts nuzzling her cheek into the sleeve of Logan’s blazer. “Just had some punch, that’s all.”

Another girl rubbing herself all over Logan would normally send Veronica out of the gym doors in a jealous rage. But she promised him she wouldn’t run and she trusts him. He seems just as worried for Jackie as she is.

Veronica quickly scans the table for Jackie’s cup. She points to the one closest. “Is this what you were drinking?”

Jackie nods, then clumsily reaches for it. “Mine.”

Veronica snaps open her clutch purse. It’s smaller than her messenger bag so it doesn’t take her long to find what she’s looking for. She pulls out a coaster, similar to the cardboard kind restaurants use to serve drinks. Except this one says ‘what’s in your glass’ and has two special test ares. While Logan and Wallace wait, she dips her finger into the punch and drips the liquid onto the test areas. As they watch, the spot turns blue.

“Yep.” Veronica is grim. “She’s been drugged.”

She holds the coaster up to the light, then hands it to Logan. “Would you say that has a pinkish or greenish tinge?”

“Um, green?”

Wallace inspects it and nods his agreement.

“GHB,” Veronica mutters. She locks eyes with Logan, her own horror and fear reflected there.

“Jackie, Jackie, you have to focus. Did you set this down? Who was nearby?”

She manages to point over to a table next to them. Duncan is standing there awkwardly, looking away, plus Mandy, Corny, and Mac and Cassidy.

Veronica storms over. “Who saw what happened? Who drugged Jackie’s drink?”

All eyes fly to her. Duncan sidles off to talk with his date— _ugh, Madison._ _They deserve each other._ Mac stares at her, openmouthed.

“Veronica, what are you talking about?”

"Someone drugged Jackie’s drink.” She takes a deep breath and gestures at the cup. “Did you see anything?”

Heads shake no. Mac puts her hand on Veronica’s arm. “God, that’s awful. What can we do?”

Veronica looks around the room and then at Jackie, still dazed and incoherent. She sighs and meets Logan’s eyes; he’s still tending to Jackie, trying to get through to her.

“We need to take Jackie home, make sure she’s okay. Can you make sure this doesn’t happen to anyone else? Go dump the punch and if you see anyone else who seems really out of it, make sure a friend takes them home, not their date.” She fishes another coaster out of her purse.

“Here.” She shoves it into Mac’s hands. “Just in case you need to check. I’ll ask around on Monday and figure this out but for now, we’ve gotta get Jackie out of here.”

Mac nods and Veronica gives Wallace a quick peck on the cheek. “Knock ‘em dead, Homecoming King. I’m sorry I’m gonna miss it, but—”

“I’m going with you,” he interrupts.

Logan shakes his head as he helps Jackie up and wraps her arm around his shoulders, supporting her.

“Nah, man, you need to stay here. Help Mac. The more people watching, the better. We’ve got this. We’ll call you later.”

* * *

 

**LOGAN**

Logan meticulously obeys every traffic law on the way to The Grand, the last thing they need is to get pulled over. From the little Jackie has told him about her dad, he knows she’s going to want to keep this under wraps. He’s also pretty sure murder suspects should avoid proximity to drugged victims. Veronica mutters softly to a loopy Jackie in the backseat, but Logan can hear the underlying rage in her tone. She’s keeping it together for Jackie, but whoever did this is going to get the full force of Mars wrath.

After pulling into the garage, Logan sends a text to Tina, the bubbly concierge who’s always willing to do a favor for a friend. Rather than parading Jackie through the front lobby, Tina meets them at the service entrance. She looks between a giggling Jackie, and a silently fuming Veronica and pins Logan with a questioning look. He explains the situation to a shocked and dismayed Tina, over Jackie’s cheerful chatter, as they ride to the eleventh floor. Once the elevator arrives, Tina holds the doors open with a sympathetic look to Jackie as the trio exits.  

“Thanks Tina,” Logan mumbles as he passes.

“Anything for a friend of yours, Logan!”

Suddenly, Jackie halts. She spins to face the elevator doors and emphasizes gleefully, “ _Girlfriend_ of Logan’s! It took her a few tries but Veronica’s not jerking him around anymore!”

Veronica’s eyes widen. “Jackie, she wasn’t talking about me. Why don’t we—”

“Plus, she’s super possessive. And I heard she carries around piano wire.” Jackie continues to Tina conversationally as she mimes choking.

Logan barks out a laugh, and Veronica covers her face and groans. Tina is standing frozen, with one hand still holding the door open.

“Okay, that’s it. Come on, Jackie.” Veronica tugs Jackie down the hall.

Logan stares after them until Tina clears her throat for his attention.

“So,” she says slyly, “she’s done jerking you around, huh?”

“I guess so,” Logan nods somberly, then breaks out into a grin. “Isn’t she great?”

“So, does this mean no more 1am calls to print out ill-advised party fliers?”

Logan rolls his eyes at her impish grin. “We’re good for now.”

“I’m happy for you, Logan.” Tina’s sincerity shines through. “And Logan? Take care of yourself.”

“Thanks. And thanks again for tonight. Jackie’s dad is kind of well known and we didn’t—”

“Say no more. We at the Neptune Grand live to serve!” She steps back into the elevator with a wink.

With a little hop, Logan spins and hurries down the corridor. When he catches up to Jackie and Veronica, they’re standing outside 1147 waiting for him.

“That took a while.” Veronica’s statement sounds like a question.

Jackie snickers, “Piano wire.”

Logan fishes his keycard out of his pocket and lets them into the suite. Jackie wanders around, and he pulls Veronica aside. “Tina’s a friend. She doesn’t buy the Aaron Echolls line of bullshit and she helped me a lot when I moved in here.”

“Okay.”

At her succinct response, he continues. “The press was after me for any kind of statement when my father made bail and she always warned me, and let me use the service entrance, when the paparazzi was waiting in the lobby.”

“Okay.”

Logan narrows his eyes suspiciously. “I’m not interested. Actually, I’m pretty sure she’d be more interested in you. And—”

“Logan,” Veronica cups his check. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He echos cautiously.

“Yes. Okay. You said she’s just a friend and I believe you.”

“Well...good.”

“Now,” Veronica moves on briskly. “Do you think you can have her send up some clothes for Jackie from the gift shop? She should change.”

“Sure, I can do that.” He’s still watching Veronica carefully, he hopes this isn’t some sort of test. “But Jackie can just wear—”

She tugs on the lapels of his blazer, pulling him closer, and silences him with a kiss. “Nope. I draw the line at another woman wearing my boyfriend’s clothes. Give Tina a call while I see if Jackie wants to shower.”

Beaming, Logan complies. Wallace beeps in while he’s making his request, and Logan rushes Tina off the phone and clicks over.

“What’s going on, man?”

“How’s Jackie?”

Logan sets the in-room coffee maker and gathers bottled water as he talks. “She seems okay. Still out of it, but I don’t think the dose was very high. She’s still coherent, anyway. Just… happy. And honest.” He smirks. “How’s it going over there, your highness?”

“How’d you know?”

“Aw, come on. As if I’d let anyone else win. That’d be like rooting for the Yankees.”

“You’re hilarious. Well, we couldn’t find Dick to help, but Cassidy dumped the punch, and Mac and I have been checking everyone. No one seems out of it or anything that we can tell.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Logan blinks in surprise at the clothes-laden bellhop on the other side. _Tina works fast._

"Dick usually spends these things on the bleachers drinking with the jocks. I’ll update him when he stumbles home,” Logan explains as he trades Neptune Grand-emblazoned gear for a tip.

“All right. Should we head over there?”

“No, we’ve got it covered. Go make Senior memories.”

“Yeah, some memory. Does V want us to do anything else?”

Logan places the clothes on the bed along with one of his own t-shirts and goes back to the living room to wait. “I think that’s it. We’ll keep you posted.”

“Was that Wallace?” Veronica questions as Logan hangs up the phone. She closes the bedroom door behind her.

“Yeah, they didn’t find anything.” He moves around the couch toward her and brushes his fingers across her cheek. “How’s Jackie?”

Veronica shrugs. “She’s getting better, I think. She stopped giggling and trying to touch my hair at least.”

Logan cups her chin, “And how are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Baby, I know you’re not good. I don’t just want you to talk to me when you’re mad at me. I’m here for whatever you need.”

In a rare show of vulnerability, she lets her head rest against his palm. “I know it’s not the same. But I can’t help thinking about Shelly’s party.” She falls silent for a moment, then gathers herself up to her full (albeit tiny) height. “I know how I’ll feel better, and that’s by catching whoever did this.”  

Before Logan can respond, the beep of the keycard sounds and Dick wobbles in. He spots Veronica immediately.

“Ronnie!”

Logan kisses her cheek, whispering, “Go, take care of Jackie. I’ll be there in a minute.”

With a grateful look, Veronica nods to Dick and swiftly enters the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

“Logan! Dude! Where’d Ronnie go?” Dick starts stripping off his tuxedo jacket.

“She’s in my room with Jackie.”

“Nice!” Dick’s pants follow the jacket. Luckily, the technical aspects of button operation seem to be escaping him at the moment. Logan hastens over and gently prods him towards his room, before Dick gives up and decides the boxers are easier to remove than the shirt.

Resigned to his fate, Logan helps Dick strip the rest of the way and pushes him onto his bed. Dick topples over easily, and instantly closes his eyes, snuggling into his pillow.

With a sigh, Logan leaves him to search the bathroom for some aspirin. He places two pills on the nightstand next to Dick, then jogs to fridge to get a bottle of water. He sets that next to the aspirin and turns out the light before quietly withdrawing from the room.

He knocks softly on his bedroom door, and enters when Veronica calls out. Jackie is propped up on his bed, her hair damp from the shower, and her skin slightly pink, as if she’s been scrubbing at it. Her eyes are, thankfully, more focused than he’s seen them all night.

Veronica is sitting at the edge of the bed. “I was just asking Jackie some questions.”

Logan throws Veronica a startled glance. “Shouldn’t we wait until tomorrow?”

“It’s fine, Logan. I want this guy caught.”

He shrugs his agreement. It’s not his call, and by his calculations it’s been almost 5 hours now. The drug must be pretty much out of her system if she’s this lucid.

“Like I was saying,” Veronica charges ahead with her interrogation, “what do you remember?”

“Not much. I got there before you guys and I don’t really know anyone else yet, so I just got a glass of the punch and waited.”

“Did you talk to anyone? Was anyone near you?” Veronica presses.

“I talked to a few people, mostly misogynistic jerks with alcohol breath and cheap cologne. Apparently going to a dance alone is just asking for it.” Jackie grimaces.

“We’re gonna nail whoever did this, I promise.” Veronica reassures.

Jackie nods and sends Veronica a small smile. “The only people I know by name are Madison Sinclair, she’s Neptune High’s own, personal bitchy welcome wagon. And Duncan.” She sends Logan a pointed look, and he flushes. She probably went to take a look for herself after his not-so-flattering description at his Life is Short party.

Veronica latches on to Madison and Duncan, probing for more information. Jackie doesn’t have much to tell, but Veronica already has her “I know what happened” look on her face. He doubts either of them are the culprit, but he remains silent. _There’s no reasoning with her when she’s like this._

Jackie winds down, and Veronica tucks her under the covers. “Get some rest, Logan and I will be checking on you all night. And don’t worry, we’re going to find Madison and Duncan and make ‘em sweat.”

* * *

 

**VERONICA**

On Monday morning, Veronica opens the passenger side door and slides into the Xterra, pulling a notebook and a pen out of her messenger bag. Usually when Logan drives her to school she greets him with the customary Mars Family to-go breakfast: glazed donuts and coffee. Today, she doesn’t even manage a hello before she jumps right into explaining her investigation to him.

“So, here’s what I’ve got so far.” She opens her notebook and begins reading.  “People to question: Duncan, Madison, Mandy—”

“Veronica,” Logan interrupts her. “Are you sure about this?”

Since Jackie hadn’t been able to tell them much, her plan was to start by questioning the people that were nearby. _Focus on the case, Veronica—on punishing the person responsible—then you don’t have to think about what could have happened._

“Yep.” She pops the P on the end of the word, decisive. “Are you gonna help me?”

He scoffs and taps a rhythm out on the steering wheel. “You should know by now—you can’t stop me from helping.”

Veronica lets herself relax a fraction and gives a small smile. “I have noticed that, actually. But you’re a halfway decent partner, at least, so…”

“Halfway decent?” He smirks. “Pretty sure you were singing a different tune in bed the other—”

He might be driving, but she still manages to cover his mouth with her hand.

“Enough.” She tries for a firm tone but he just licks her fingers.

“Ew, gross!” She wipes her palm on her jeans.

“Once again, not what you were saying—”

“And if you want me to say it in the future, you’ll stop right there, Jackass.”

Logan’s eyes twinkle as he changes the subject.

“So,” he prompts. “Who all do we need to talk to?”

“Duncan, Madison, Mandy, Corney, and maybe Mac and Cassidy. Not because they’re suspects,” she explains quickly, “just in case they noticed something helpful.”

“Yeah, are they a couple?”

Veronica shrugs. “I guess so. They’re kinda cute.”

Hesitating, Logan asks, “Why are you so focused on Madison? Or Duncan?”

_Admit it, Veronica. Maybe you want justice for yourself just as much as Jackie._

Outloud she says, “It’s just...if the shoe fits…”

Logan makes a face. “Did they go to the dance together?  I can’t decide who I pity more.” He gives a shudder and pulls into the back row of the Neptune High parking lot. “You seem stressed. Want to release some of that pent-up tension on me?” He bobs his eyebrows at her.

Veronica makes an exaggerated sad face. “Not this time. We’ve got people to question, partner.”

“I should have never pushed for that John Wayne marathon, now I’ve ruined you.” Removing the keys from the ignition, he turns to her. “You wanna feel like a man? Walk me to class?”

* * *

To prove to herself and Logan that she’s being unbiased, Veronica questions Mandy and Corney before school but it doesn’t yield any new or helpful information. She’s almost gleeful when she informs Logan that it’s time to corner Duncan and Madison.

“No punching,” she warns as they approach his table.

Logan shrugs. “I make no promises.”

She rolls her eyes and steels herself for what’s sure to be an unpleasant encounter. Madison is draped across Duncan’s lap and she’s feeding him bites of Chinese food off of chopsticks. _Blech_.

When Duncan catches sight of her and Logan, he glares. “You don’t sit here anymore.”

“Wow, you know me so well. That’s exactly what we were coming over here to talk about.”

Logan’s flippant sarcasm threatens to make her laugh but she tamps it down and fixes Duncan with a firm stare.

“Someone tried to drug Jackie Cook at the dance this weekend. What do you know about it?”

Madison sits up straighter on Duncan’s lap and narrows her eyes. “Are you accusing Duncan of trying to drug that trainwreck? Because he was with me _all_ night.”

“He couldn’t have lasted that long,” Logan mutters under his breath and Veronica stifles a laugh. _He’s probably not wrong but if this turns into a fist-fight, you’ll never find out what happened._

She elbows him, summons a glare, and whispers, “Focus on the case.” _Are you telling yourself or Logan?_

“Yeah, Veronica, what are you trying to imply?” Duncan’s voice has an edge to it and she clenches her fists in response, willing herself to stay calm.

“You two were nearby, I just want to know if you saw anything.”

“Why would we have been paying attention to that trashy new girl anyway?” Madison sneers.

“I know it’s difficult for you to focus on anything besides yourself, Madison, but try really hard. Did you see anyone near her cup?” She turns to Duncan. “Who else came over near your table?”

He merely shrugs.

“Look, it’s not okay when girls get drugged at parties. Anything could happen.” She stares at him fiercely and her voice is low and threatening. Duncan gulps and glances away. Logan starts rubbing her lower back in soothing circles. _So much for calm._

“We really didn’t see anything, Veronica,” he finally answers, staring at his shoes. He gives a vague wave. “I don’t know anything more that could help you.”

“Bye, Veronica.” Madison is smug as she places a possessive hand on Duncan’s chest.

Veronica looks between Duncan and Logan. _Does Madison think she won some sort of contest here? Is Duncan the prize? She has grossly overestimated Duncan’s appeal_.

“Hey, Madison, don’t make the same mistake I did. Be sure to ask him about Meg...all about her _condition_ and how she’s doing.”

Duncan flushes and his eyes flash but she laces her fingers through Logan’s and heads across the quad.

“What was that about?” Logan whispers in her ear as she tugs him along. “And where are you taking me?”

She pulls him towards the back row of the parking lot. “Unlock the car.”

His eyebrows hit his hairline as he beeps his key fob and opens the back door of the Xterra. “Whatever you want, Peaches.”

Veronica slides inside and takes a deep breath as Logan follows and looks at her expectantly.

“I just wanted a place where no one would overhear,” she explains, fiddling with the diamond necklace nestled in the small of her throat.

“Would hear how I’m gonna make you scream so loud?” he leers and leans toward her.

Veronica places her hand on his chest, halting his progress.

“Not exactly. The thing with Duncan...I don’t think anybody knows yet, but Meg’s pregnant.”

Logan’s eyes widen in surprise. “Shit,” he whispers.

“Yeah, I suspect that’s how Duncan feels, too. I don’t know any of the details, I just...found out when I went to visit her in the hospital two weeks ago. He was there; he obviously knows.”

Logan just sits there, woodenly. “Did he, do you think he knew when he broke up with her? Or started dating you?”

Veronica shakes her head. “I don’t know. I decided it’s not my problem. I shouldn’t have said anything back there, but Madison really pissed me off.

She shifts so that she’s straddling his lap, facing him. “Now. Does that offer still stand about working off my pent-up frustrations on you?”

Logan’s eyes light up and he slides his hands around her waist. “Mmm, always, Bobcat.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Riding the Storm

 

* * *

 

You’ve reached Logan Echolls, and here’s today’s inspirational message: ‘You can learn to prevent a storm, or you can learn to ride the storm. If you learn to ride the storm, the storm is not a problem anymore.”

* * *

**LOGAN**

In the backseat of the Xterra, with 30 minutes left to their lunch break, Logan helps Veronica adjust her clothes, then brushes her hair back from her face, and peppers her forehead with kisses. It’s a good thing she’s nice and relaxed now because she’s not going to love what he has to say next. She’s eliminated all her suspects trying to figure out who drugged Jackie and has hit a dead-end; maybe she’s desperate enough to listen.

“Veronica, we have to talk to Dick about Homecoming.”

She frowns. “Why? Was he even there?”

“I know you only have eyes for me, Snookums,” he nuzzles her neck, “but yes, he was there. And Dick would know if anyone had drugs.”

“Of course he would.” 

“Play nice,” he chides, kissing her nose, and lifting her out of the car.

They find Dick lounging on the bleachers, munching on brownies, while Cassidy sits fidgeting on the bench in front of him. Next to Cassidy, Mac appears to be lecturing Dick. 

They climb the steps as Dick is protesting, “Lighten up, Ghost World! You’re into freak vegetarian shit, right? It’s  _ organic _ .” Dick playfully waves a brownie under her nose and Mac’s eyes narrow dangerously.

At her expression, Logan hurries ahead, interjecting before Mac punches his best friend in the face. “Dick! Just the man I was looking for.” 

Mac turns away from Dick and waves to Veronica and Logan.

“Dude!” Dick straightens up as Logan reaches him and they enthusiastically execute their custom handshake. 

Veronica pouts. “Why don’t I have a special greeting?” 

“Oh, you have a special greeting. Don’t you remember this morning when I—”

She claps her hand over Logan’s mouth quickly, somehow managing to both blush and glare at him simultaneously. 

“We’re here on business.” Veronica informs everyone and slides in next to Mac, bumping her shoulder in greeting.

“What’s going on, Bond?”

“Anyone know anything about someone having GHB at Homecoming? GHB that mysteriously got into a girl’s drink, perhaps?” 

Mac raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t comment.

“We checked everyone we could find, like you asked, and didn’t find any.” Cassidy answers.

“What about you, Dick?” Veronica presses.

Dick’s brow furrows. “GHB? Plenty of people—including yours truly—were drinking and smoking weed, but...you said GHB ended up in some chick’s drink?” 

“Jackie Cook.” Veronica’s confirms, and Logan watches, fascinated, as Dick’s contemplative expression transforms into one of fury.

“Someone messed with one of our crew? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Veronica blinks. “Our...crew?”

“Yeah, we’re, like, a team now. The Scooby Gang.” 

“The Sco—” She blinks again then clears her throat. “Well, we didn’t tell you because we thought you knew. You came home while she was there. What did you think was happening?”

Dick shrugs. “I know she was in your room, but I don’t know what you guys are into.”

Veronica’s jaw drops and now it’s Logan’s turn to clamp his hand over her mouth while Mac stifles a giggle and Cassidy rests his forehead in his palms. 

“Did you see anyone with drugs at homecoming, Dick?” Logan cautiously removes his hand from Veronica’s mouth as he gets them back on task.

Clearly oblivious to his near-tasered experience, Dick casually reveals, “I didn’t  _ see  _ anyone with drugs other than weed, but Kelvin Moore offered me Liquid X. He musta thought Madison was my date because he said he heard she needs a little help to get going.” 

Veronica makes a dangerous sound low in her throat. 

Holding his hands up defensively, Dick insists, “I wouldn’t  _ do  _ it, Ronnie. I’m past that. I’ve, you know, grown as a person. And, anyway, I thought Kelvin was joking.”

Logan can practically hear Veronica counting to ten in her head. Mac likely can, too, because she rests a supportive hand on Veronica’s knee. 

Thanking Dick for the information, Logan laces his fingers through Veronica’s and helps her off the bench, guiding her away before she loses her resolve and attacks his friend. 

“Ronnie!” They both turn at Dick’s shout. “If you need help making that asshole pay, you let me know.” 

Looking mollified, Veronica sends Dick a vicious grin and tugs Logan back towards the school. 

Once they’re through the main entrance she keeps moving briskly down the hall, and even with his long legs, Logan has to scurry to keep up. 

“Where are we going?” He’d happily follow her anywhere, but it’s nice to have a destination in mind. 

“The gym. Kelvin practices during his free period after lunch.”

“You know Kelvin’s schedule?” He’s not  _ annoyed _ she knows his schedule. He’s just curious. 

“Same as Wallace’s,” she replies absently as she shoves open the gym doors. 

“Kelvin!” Veronica’s shout echos through the mostly empty gym. The five guys practicing free throws at the far end all stop to stare at her. Wallace and Kelvin break away from the pack, jogging over to meet them.

Veronica doesn’t bother with pleasantries. “Did you have GHB the night of Homecoming?” She pokes her finger into Kelvin’s chest. “And did you slip some to Jackie Cook?”

Wallace casually moves from Kelvin’s side to stand shoulder to shoulder with Veronica. Logan, behind her, slides next to her and puts his arm around her waist, forming a united front. 

Kelvin swallows nervously, and he shoots a glance to the doors and back at Veronica. 

“You’ll never make it.” Logan tilts his head and raises his eyebrows to indicate Wallace, who moves again to position himself between Kelvin and the door. 

Clearly out of options, Kelvin puffs out his chest and adopts a belligerent tone. “Yeah, I had it. So what?”

Veronica growls in response. Actually growls. It’s probably not the time but Logan would be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on a little. Although, if she’s gonna make that noise, he’d much prefer it be directed at him, behind closed doors.

He can feel her bristle beside him and squeezes her waist supportively. He wouldn’t mind throwing a punch himself right about now, and Wallace looks ready to commit murder, but they both know how this works. Rule number one at The Veronica Mars School for Spies: Follow Veronica’s lead.

“And did you give it to Jackie?” Veronica’s voice is low and threatening.

Fool that he is, Kelvin continues on the path of bravado, boasting, “Yeah, you know what? I did. Girl needed to loosen up. What are you gonna do about it?”

Fists clenched, Logan and Wallace pose for action, waiting for Veronica to give the go signal, but she gives them a barely perceptible shake of the head.

Smiling sweetly she asks, “Oh Kelvin, don’t you intrinsically fear me by now?”

Kelvin— _ how could he be so totally lacking in self-preservation? _ —gives a cocky laugh. “Yeah, right, Veronica. I’m not scared of you.”

“You should be. I’m going to ruin your life.” She assures him, placing a hand on Logan and Wallace. “Let’s go. We’re done here.” 

Kelvin attempts to suppress a shudder, and Logan can’t hold back his grin as he and Wallace follow Veronica out of the gym.  _ There’s my girl, spreading sunshine wherever she goes.  _

* * *

** VERONICA **

“Thanks for coming by to help.” Veronica lets Mac and Jackie into the vestibule of the Mars Investigations office after school the next day. The coffee table in front of the couch is covered with fliers and envelopes. ‘Keith Mars for Sheriff’ signs are stacked in a pile on the floor. 

Mac shrugs and sets her bookbag down beside the couch. “Civic duty and all that.”

“Yeah,” Jackie chimes in. “If half of what Logan has told me about the current Sheriff is true, we definitely want your dad to win.”

Veronica sighs. “On the one hand, I’m worried my social life will take a serious hit if my dad has deputies at his disposal again. A constant police presence stalking me is not my idea of a good time. But,” she straightens the fliers, “I know he’s the best man for the job and for Neptune.”

Grabbing a handful of envelopes out of a box, she hands them to Jackie. “Can you stuff?”

Jackie nods and sinks down onto the couch, folding a flyer into thirds and putting it into the first envelope. 

Veronica turns to Mac. “Have you ever made buttons before?”

Mac shakes her head, no, and Veronica explains how to use the button machine she made her dad purchase.  _ Who knew those pep squad skills would come in handy again? Ready? Okay! _

Once her friends get into a good rhythm with their tasks, Veronica settles behind her desk. Opening her laptop, she utilizes the Kane Software stationery Wallace swiped for her and fabricates a letter to Sheriff Lamb. 

Pulling a resin paperweight of a large beetle out of her messenger bag, she wraps it up with her letter and places it in a padded envelope.  _ Lamb will never suspect a thing and certainly won’t find the listening device in there.  _

Jackie glances up from folding a flier. “What is that?”

Veronica smirks. “My ace in the hole.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve learned it’s better not to ask,” Mac cautions. “Plausible deniability. And she won’t tell you, anyway.”

“Trust me, it’s for your own safety,” Veronica jokes. 

“What’s this?” Keith Mars pushes open the office door and gestures around at the girls, elbow deep in his campaign materials. 

Veronica quickly shoves the mailing envelope into her bag and points at herself, then Mac and Jackie in turn. “This is your campaign manager and her staffers.”

“Mars for Sheriff!” Mac pipes up. 

“Thanks, Mac.” Her dad smiles fondly at her friend. “And is this Jackie? Jackie Cook?”

He rubs his hands together gleefully and Veronica rolls her eyes. Jackie looks puzzled. 

“I should have warned you. He’s a huge baseball fan.”

At Veronica’s explanation, Jackie’s confusion changes to an uncomfortable grimace. 

“Yeah, Terrence Cook is my dad. But we’re not super close. Yet,” she amends. “That’s part of the reason I moved to Neptune—to get to know him better.”

“Well, he was one hell of a pitcher back in the day. I’m honored to have a Cook working on my humble campaign.” Keith shakes Jackie’s hand solemnly and then moves over to Veronica, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Thanks again for your help, ladies. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

“Oh, Dad?” He turns back to face her, hand on the doorknob. “Do you know what lab the school uses for medical testing?”

Keith raises his eyebrows. “You have the oddest homework assignments. I believe it’s one here in town, BioMed Labs. Why?”

“No reason!” She tosses him a winning smile.  _ He should know better than to ask, too.  _

With a shake of his head, her dad enters his office, closing the door behind him. 

“What are you planning?” Curiosity suffuses Jackie’s pretty features.

Veronica just gives her a closed-mouthed grin, Mona Lisa-style. “Payback.”

“I tried to tell you,” Mac explains as she makes another button. “Veronica is black belt-level when it comes to deflecting.”

Logan’s words from the previous week echo in her head, accusing her of avoiding real conversations.   _ Keeping your cards close to your chest is one thing, Veronica, but you have to admit, the boy’s not wrong.  _

Clearing her throat, she says, “Here’s what I will tell you. It’s my gift to Jackie and I think she’s really going to like it.”

“It’s not even my birthday.” Jackie arches her brows, obviously still wanting to know what Veronica has planned. 

“Consider it a late ‘Welcome to Neptune’ present,” Veronica offers. “Or maybe a ‘Sorry I Was So Mean’ apology gift.”

Jackie’s features relax into a smile. “No apology needed. I wasn’t exactly friendly when we first met either. Who knew I’d make better friends if I left the bitchy attitude back in New York?”

Mac shrugs, staring at her hands. “It certainly works in some circles.”  _ Is she thinking of Madison and the Sinclairs? How could she not be?  _

But Mac shakes off her moment of introspection and dimples. “We might be tough but I’m not gonna start wearing pink on Wednesdays any time soon.”

_ Or any day of the week _ . Veronica winces, thinking about her former closet. These days she doesn’t have much call for yellow cotton or even red satin.  _ More like black leather _ . _ What would Lilly think of that? _

“Veronica used to be a pink princess.” Mac’s teasing eyes flash with mirth while Jackie looks shocked at the revelation.  _ Maybe this is one of those moments where you can try that thing Logan was talking about...not running or fighting but opening up. That’s what friends do, right? _

She squashes her desire to clam up and gives a rueful grin. “It’s true. But I’m not that girl anymore. My perfect boyfriend dumped me, my best friend died, and the only person I had left turned on me, turned the whole school against me, actually.” She shrugs. “I got tough, got even, found a new best friend, and stopped caring about what everyone thought.”

“And Logan?” Jackie raises an eyebrow, her expression both curious and wary. 

“Yeah, that took a little longer. But I think it’s gonna be okay this time.” Veronica turns to Mac. “Now. If sharing is caring, what’s going on with you and Cassidy?”

Mac flushes, her cheeks matching the red streaks in her hair. 

“Um,” she hesitates. “He actually asked me out.”

“What?” Jackie shrieks. “Details, now!” 

“How did you even meet?” Veronica queries. 

“I did some computer work for him last year. And then I ran into him at a bookstore this summer and we started hanging out. He asked me to the dance as friends but…” Mac swallows. “Things kind of clicked. We get along really well. I like him a lot.”

Jackie squeals again but Mac still looks nervous. “He actually, um, he got us a room at The Grand for election night.”

“Whoa! Way to go, Mackenzie!” Veronica’s eyebrows hit her hairline.  _ You’re not the only one who’s realized that life is short, apparently.  _

“He made it clear that it wasn’t like that, it was just a place to crash since we all know you’ll give Logan that look and he’ll kick us out,” Mac explains. “We’ll probably end up playing Halo or something all night but...a girl can dream, right?”

_ Maybe not about Cassidy, but whatever floats your boat, Mac _ . 

Aloud, Veronica advises, “Wear cute underwear, just in case.”

Mac holds up her hands in protest. “And discussing my underwear is where I draw the line.” But she dimples and blushes again, smiling to herself, so Veronica’s not too worried. 

Jackie quickly changes the subject, telling them about what happened today in English, and Veronica takes a deep breath.  _ Look at that. You survived actual girl talk. What doesn’t kill you really might make you stronger _ . 

* * *

 

** LOGAN **

_ “And we're officially calling the sheriff's race: Don Lamb holds on to his seat in a real nail-biter.” _

Logan powers off the TV as groans fill the living room of The Grand. Almost immediately his cell phone sings,  _ “I’m sorry that you seem to be confused, he belongs to me the boy is mine.”  _

Logan takes the call, listening while he looks around the suite. It’s entirely possible he went a little overboard. Hanging up the phone, he checks the time on the display. They don’t have long.

“That was Wallace—”

Mac snorts. “Of course it was. Now, Logan, you know Wallace loves you both.”

“Dude, you’re still into chicks,right?” 

Logan rolls his eyes at Dick’s furrowed brow and starts putting the champagne away. “Veronica and Wallace will be here in fifteen minutes. Dick, Cassidy—take down the banner. Jackie, Mac—pop the balloons.” 

The team gets to work making the suite decidedly less celebratory. 

Thirteen minutes later, there’s a knock on the door and Logan shoves the balloon carcasses and curled ribbons into the closet before answering it. He really needs to buy a normal sized garbage can. Finding places to stuff the remains of seventy-five latex balloons was a daunting task. 

Veronica sails through the doorway, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and smiles at the group in greeting. Only someone who knows her well would notice the fraying at the edges, the lack of sparkle in her eyes. Wallace shoots him a despondent look over her head.

The Scooby Gang immediately crowds her, offering their anger and condolences. Veronica's smile becomes more brittle and she switches topics at the first opportunity. She does her best to contribute to the conversation, but Veronica’s mind is clearly still on her father’s defeat. 

If Veronica pushed her cynicism aside and let herself hope for this win for her family, then she’d be even more devastated by the result. Her dad’s job is something they lost along with Lilly and her mother...and him. Getting it back must have seemed like a fairytale.  

Logan pulls Cassidy aside. “Hey, listen, man, I know you booked a suite for you and Mac tonight, but do you think you can move the party over there? I think Veronica could use some alone time.” 

Cassidy agrees quickly—certainly more quickly than Logan would have if he booked a room hoping to get lucky, but to each their own. 

Casually extracting his brother from the group, Cassidy whispers to Dick covertly. Nodding in understanding Dick booms, “Let’s go, party people! We’re moving this shindig upstairs.”

Wallace gives Logan a knowing look, and helps Jackie and Mac up from the couch. Dick and Cassidy lead the way, and the chatting, giggling group files through the door. Logan holds Veronica back and shuts the door behind them. “Uh-uh. Not you, Bobcat.” 

“Did you arrange this?” Veronica walks back into the living area and gestures around the now empty room, then crosses her arms in front of her, hugging her waist.

“Yup.” He walks over and brushes her hair behind her ear. “Want to talk about it?” 

“Not really.” Her hands creep down and catch the edge of her red camisole. In one graceful swoop she uncrosses her arms, peeling it off and dropping it to the floor. She’s not wearing a bra. 

Veronica quirks a challenging brow at him. Logan takes a deep breath and wills his brain to work. 

Strolling over to the couch, he sits and lounges back casually, signally towards her jeans. “Please. Don’t stop on my account.”

She grins mischievously, opens the button on her fly and slowly lowers the zipper, parting the material, revealing a strip of white lace. Then she stops. Logan’s gaze flies up and meets her smug expression.

Torn out of his focused enjoyment, it registers that he’s leaning forward eagerly, forearms resting on his thighs, practically panting. He hastily resumes his lazy position on the couch, schooling his features into a nonchalant expression. For good measure, he props his feet up on the coffee table, crossing them at the ankles. He nods for her to continue.

Smirking, she toes off her shoes, then shimmies her pants all the way down and steps away from them. He folds his hands behind his head, the very model of a jackass, then grips them together so he doesn’t reach for her.

She hooks her thumbs under the thin straps of her thong when a knock stalls her. With a frustrated growl he bellows, “One minute.” 

Logan stalks over to Veronica, and picks her up. With a breathy laugh, her legs wind automatically around his hips. He brings her closer, grinding against her through his jeans and presses his mouth to hers, stroking her tongue with his. 

Pulling away he whispers in her ear, “My turn.” 

He ignores the second knock in favor of running his thumbs under the white lacy straps of her underwear.

“Stay just like this. Don’t take this off.” He instructs.

She bites her lip, eyes riveted on his. Inspired by her intrigued look, his voice takes on a commanding edge. “Go into the bedroom. I want you to get on the bed, spread your legs, and wait for me.” 

She buries her face in his neck and mumbles a response into his neck. Concerned he overstepped, he softly urges, “Baby, look at me.”

The knocking comes again, more insistent, and he snarls, “Just wait a fucking minute.”

Softer, he prods. “Baby?” 

When she looks up at him her expression is… curious, excited. 

Shakily she agrees, “Yeah, okay. I’ll wait.”  

Logan’s smirk threatens to overtake his face. Patting her butt, he helps her down. 

Making sure the bedroom door is closed firmly behind her, he adjusts his pants and trots to the door to kill whichever one of their friends is interrupting. Was kicking them out not a clear enough sign? Does he have to hang a sock on the knob, too? 

Opening the door, Logan is surprised to see Deputy Sacks and Deputy Leo on the other side.

“Logan Echolls, the Sheriff would like a word with you.”

Logan sighs and raps his head against the doorframe.  _ Of course he does.  _ He gestures Sacks and Leo into the living room and follows them inside. Veronica’s clothes are still on the floor, and he thinks wistfully of her waiting in his bed.  There’s probably no way to recover the mood now. He lowers himself glumly onto the couch. Reclining against the backrest, he mimics his earlier position—feet up, arms folded—with a touch of insolence thrown in.

“What’s this about, fellas?” 

“Logan Echolls, you’re under arrest for the—“

“You know, Deputy, I’m beginning to think you have a crush on me.” Logan snarks to Leo, who is scrutinizing the pile of clothes on the floor.

Finally, Leo looks up. “Is she—“

Before the Deputy can finish his question, a 5”1’ dynamo clad in rolled up cargo pants and an oversized orange Henley bursts out of the bedroom like some avenging goddess. 

“Under arrest for what?” 

They stare at Veronica in stunned silence. 

“Well?” She demands as she moves to Logan’s place on the couch. Her hair is a mess, she’s holding up his pants with one hand. She looks ready to take on both Deputies. And win. She’s amazing. Logan is flooded with the certainty that everything is going to be okay.

Knocking his feet off the coffee table with her leg, she stands directly in front of him, blocking him from Sacks and Leo’s view. He grabs her hand and pulls her back, into his lap, then wraps his arms around her. 

“Logan, not now.” She hisses. 

He ignores her, resting his chin on her shoulder, and she softens against him. They stare expectantly at the deputies. Sacks looks uncomfortable and Leo looks fascinated.

Clearing his throat, Sacks announces, “Logan Echolls, you are under arrest for the murder of Felix Tombs.” 

“Again?” 

Veronica elbows him.

Sacks continues. “A witness came forward, says he saw you kill that biker. Your pricey lawyers aren’t going to be able to get you out of this one, kid. ”

Logan declares, “Bullshit,” at the same time Veronica mutters, “Maybe not right away, but I know a cheap lawyer that can get you bail in a couple of hours.” 

Louder she says, “Logan, we’re going with them. Say nothing.” 

They all start to speak at once, but she cuts them off, pointing to each man in turn.

“Say  _ nothing _ , Logan. I mean it.” Pouting, Logan closes his mouth. “Yes, Sacks, ‘ _ we _ .’ Leo. You’re standing on my pants.”

Leo flushes and quickly side-steps her clothes, picks them up, and tosses them to her. She catches the pile and stares Leo down. “Mirandarize him  _ slowly. _ I’ve got to make a phone call. _ ” _

When the bedroom door closes behind her, the three men stare at the rectangle with a knob. 

Suddenly feeling magnanimous, Logan pops up from the couch and heads to the fridge. “Either of you gentlemen care for some champagne?”

* * *

** VERONICA **

Veronica paces the tiny waiting area in the Sheriff’s Department. She’s already contemplated trashing the place but has decided against it—probably not the best way to convey ‘maturity’ or ‘innocence.’ But, god, it would feel good right about now. She channels her aggression into Jackie’s case instead, making some phone calls to BioMed Labs. After figuring out how to tamper with a mandatory drug test, her revenge on Kelvin is complete. She can’t allow whatever’s going on with Logan to overshadow her promise to Jackie.  _ Plus, multitasking’s kinda your thing _ . Get justice for Jackie and find the truth for Logan? Give her a stick of gum to chew and she can do all three. 

“Veronica. This better be good.”

She spins at the sound of the deep, sardonic voice.

“I was supposed to be nursing my hangover, comforting your father, I might add,” Cliff McCormack continues, “but no, you pulled me out of house and home—”

“ _ My _ house!” she interrupts, but he doesn’t stop his litany of complaints.

“—To come down to the station for what? Celebutante trash?” He glares at her. “Logan Echolls? Really?”

Veronica draws herself up to her full height and crosses her arms over her chest. “He’s better than his reputation, Cliff, and he’s innocent. Plus, you owe me.”

Cliff rolls his eyes. “I owe you? I think not! Who got rid of your parking tickets before your dad found out?”

She huffs. “Who proved the mistress was actually a hooker?”

He opens his mouth but Leo calls out, “McCormack, you can see your client now. Interrogation room one.”

Leo decidedly looks away from Veronica as she pushes past him to get to Logan. This, from the guy who wanted a good, long look at her bedroom ceiling.  _ Who knew he would turn out to be such a prude? _

“Veronica.” Cliff places his hand on the door, preventing her from opening it. “You don’t have attorney-client privilege. You can’t come in there.”

She fishes a dollar out of her messenger bag and slaps it into his palm. “Now I do. Besides, who convinced your ex-wife it was her sister who got her car impounded?”

Cliff removes his hand with a sigh and Veronica pulls the door open. 

“Who vouched for you at the strip club?” He gets in one more shot but Veronica merely glares at him and moves across the room to give Logan a kiss on the cheek. His hands are cuffed in front of him and the indignity makes her blood boil. 

“Strip club?” He whispers in her ear. “Please explain.”

“Later, Muffin.” She clears her throat. “Logan, this is Cliff. Cliff, Logan.”

She gestures between the two of them and settles herself at the table, waiting expectantly while Cliff rolls his eyes again. Logans sits beside her, wary, and she puts her hand on his thigh, hoping to be reassuring. Based on the glance he gives her, it has a different effect. She leaves it there. He grabs it with one of his cuffed hands and grips it tightly, stopping her from creeping it farther up his leg. He knows her so well. 

“O-kay. To be perfectly candid, Mr. Echolls, I’m here under duress.” Cliff shoots her another glare but she smiles sweetly at him. “Can’t you afford a better attorney? Is this a publicity stunt? Because—”

“I’m not hiring the same lawyers that work for Aaron,” Logan interrupts, spitting the words out with disdain. “Besides, it sounds like you already have a great working relationship with my girl.” 

His expression is so full of affection and lust, she blushes. 

“He’s a keeper, V,” Cliff deadpans. “I can only imagine the heart palpitations he gives your father.”

“Dad likes Logan fine. As do I. So get to defending, Cliff.”

He gives another long-suffering sigh, mutters something about gin, and pulls a manila folder from his briefcase. He opens it and scans the contents. 

“Fine. Apparently the anonymous witness in the death of Felix Tombs has come forward with more information. It says here he claims he saw Logan, bloody knife in hand, ranting like a maniac over the dead body.”

“I saw Logan that night, Cliff,” Veronica interjects hotly. “It was probably five or six against one on the bridge. He could barely stand by himself, let alone rant over a dead body.”

“Veronica,” he chastises in his deep voice. “I’m just telling you what the witness says. Calm yourself.”

She takes a deep breath. Logan seems to be handling this better than she is. He squeezes her hand, casually asking, “What do they say happened next?”

“Uh,” Cliff glances at his papers. “You said some naughty words, made some insults, and threatened to use Daddy’s money to have the witness killed.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “What about double jeopardy? Isn’t that a thing?”

“Ah, I see you have picked up something in school.”

Logan scoffs. “Please. I learned that from Ashley Judd.”

If possible, Cliff gets even more exasperated. Veronica pats Logan’s thigh again.

“Double jeopardy doesn’t apply here, Mr. Echolls, because you weren’t actually tried for the murder of Felix Tombs this summer. The charges were dropped due to lack of evidence. But there’s still an unsolved murder. If the witness’s story holds, you’ll be going to trial.”

“Obviously we need to talk to the witness,” Veronica growls.

A frightened look crosses Cliff’s features. “No, Veronica, I don’t think so. You need to stay as far away from this as possible and let the grown ups handle it.”

“That’s not what you said when—”

But Logan cuts her off. “Why do you think he came forward now?”

_ Good question, Logan _ . She’s distracted from yelling at Cliff, thinking about it.  _ Why did this happen now? _

“That’s not what they pay me to figure out.” Cliff stands. “I’m going to see what I can do about your bail. You’re still a minor, so that should help, even if you are emancipated. Don’t make me regret leaving you in here.” He points at Veronica and leaves the room.

She sighs and lays her head on Logan’s shoulder. He scoots back from the table and raises his cuffed hands so she can shimmy onto his lap and into the circle of his arms, laying her head back on his chest.

“Sorry, Peaches,” he mutters.

She lifts her head. “For what?”

Logan shrugs. “For being a magnet for trouble? For getting arrested and ruining our night? I had serious plans for you and your tiny white thong.”

She blushes and shushes him. 

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” She wiggles, settling herself more comfortably on top of him. “I happen to be an expert at getting people out of trouble.”

She can’t see him but exasperation is plain in his voice. “If I recall correctly, you became an expert because you’re always getting yourself out of trouble.”

Veronica gives a fake gasp. “No! You must be thinking of someone else.”

Logan huffs a laugh and pats her back ineffectively with his cuffed hands.

They sit in silence for a moment. Veronica breathes in Logan’s scent and enjoys the peace that fills her, despite the turmoil around them. 

When Cliff bangs the door open again, she startles a bit, jumping. His voice drips with condescension.

“Touching is frowned upon, Veronica.” He perches on the edge of the table and folds his hands primly. “You’re lucky it was Judge Bloom. We schvitz at the same gym. So. Mr. Echolls has to check in with an officer of the court regularly, they are confiscating his passport, and there’s a two-hundred thousand dollar bond to pay.”

Logan doesn’t flinch at the amount but grumbles, “My passport?”

Veronica wiggles on his lap and smiles. “Cheer up, Buttercup. That’s great news.”

“It was a masterful negotiation on my part and Mr. Echolls stays out of jail,” Cliff’s brows rise, “But ‘great’ might be a stretch. What makes you say that?”

“Oh, I meant great news for me.” She turns to Logan. “Now you can’t go to Mexico for surf trips with Dick and scam cheerleaders on the weekends. You’re stuck with me.”

Logan gives her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “You know there’s no one else. I only want you.”

Gagging, Cliff says, “This young love routine is making me nauseous. I’m leaving.”

“Can you have them uncuff me, please?” Logan holds up his hands, still bound together, wrapped around Veronica.

“Actually, I think I could make those handcuffs work to my advantage,” she whispers in his ear as Cliff exits.

He nuzzles her neck. “Mmm, maybe we can keep them as a souvenir. I like the way you think, Bobcat.”

* * *

 

** LOGAN **

Wednesday, Logan walks down the Neptune High School hallway with Veronica on his arm. He can feel the stares, hear the whispers (”murderer”....”rich boy”), so he cloaks himself with his most practiced jackass persona (sans deathwish) and paints on an arrogant smirk. Glancing down at Veronica’s face, the smirk morphs into an outright grin. His own expression might say “I don’t care what you think,” but her hard expression and clenched jaw say, “Fight me.”

He and Wallace joke about watching out for her, but the truth is, when she walks next to him like this, he feels like he has his very own protection squad. It’s absurd, really.

The last time he was accused of Felix’s murder, it was just them against the world. She would take the most shit day, the most fucked-up situations, and make them okay. This time, not only does he have his action-figure girlfriend, but overprotective friends as well. 

Throughout the day, they make it a point to stay by his side. They probably think they’re being subtle—monopolizing his attention in class, asking him inane questions in the hall just to walk with him. He doubts running into Wallace in the bathroom during homeroom was a coincidence. Especially since he noticed Jackie texting under her desk after he asked to be excused. 

By the afternoon, he’s firmly decided to be amused by their not-so-covert antics. Especially when Cassidy, who he barely speaks to, tries to strike up a conversation on the way to Lunch.

“So… Logan. Uh… Can I ask you a question?” 

“Heard about my superb diving skills, have you? Need pointers?” Logan winks knowingly.

Cassidy flushes deep red, but turns white when Weevil shoves his way between them, clapping a hand on each of their shoulders tightly. 

“Let’s talk.” The firmness in his gravelly voice, and the sea of leather circling them, leaves no room for argument. 

There’s a loud “Ouch!!” to their left and a brief skirmish before Veronica and Jackie saunter to the center of the circle. 

Weevil rolls his eyes heavenward and mutters, “I’m working with fucking amateurs here.” To Veronica he warns, “V, this doesn’t concern you.”

She shakes her head. “You know it doesn’t work that way. Call your boys off and we can talk.” 

“Talk.” Weevil scoffs. “The way you talked to Kelvin before he got kicked out of athletics for the year?” 

Logan perks up. “What does that have to do with Veronica?”

“Kelvin somehow failed his drug test this year, even though he’s been clean for months. Came to my crew looking to score, figured if he was going to do the time, he should do the crime.” Weevil nods towards Veronica. “Rumor has it your girl here targeted him for some reason.” 

“He knows exactly what he did.” Jackie’s indignant retort inadvertently confirms Weevil’s suspicions. 

“Why’d he go to you?” Veronica deflects. 

“Guess he doesn’t know the PCHers don’t deal.” Weevil doesn’t seem to notice some of the PCHers shift uncomfortably. Logan files that away for later.

Weevil drops his hands and steps away from Logan and Cassidy, “V, you know I can’t let your boy walk outta here with his pretty face intact.” 

“You know, this is the second time you’ve called me pretty. I’m starting to think—” Weevil’s fist to his face cuts him off. 

Well,  _ fuck _ . How did Weevil get to him so fast? He didn’t even see him move. 

Logan tests his jaw. Actually, it doesn’t hurt much. Surprised him more than anything. He’s had worse.  _ Did Weeves pull the punch? _ Logan’s eyes narrow.

The PCHers egg their leader on, and Logan spies Cassidy pulling Veronica out of the way. Weevil rapidly searches for something over Logan’s shoulder. He apparently finds what he’s looking for, and when he meets Logan’s gaze there’s no malice or heat in his expression. Despite that, Weevil threatens loudly, “Get ready for a beat down, rich boy.” 

As the PCHers jeer, a new voice enters the fray. “What on God’s green earth is going on here? All right, gentlemen, move it along.” Mr. Clemmons shepherds the bikers away to shouts of, “This isn’t over, white boy,” and, “Watch your back.” 

Passing Veronica, Mr. Clemmons adds, “Veronica, why does trouble follow you around?”

Veronica’s jaw drops and she sputters to his back, “What? Me? I wasn’t even…” 

Logan ambles up to Veronica and Jackie and slings an arm around each. “Keep me safe? Walk me to class?” 

With a resigned sigh Veronica loops one arm around Logan’s waist, and holds out her free hand. “Carry your books?” 

The rest of the day flows smoothly, but his friends have doubled their efforts to maintain close contact. They’re not even hiding it anymore.

Logan asks for a bathroom pass in Mr. Wu’s class, and Wallace surreptitiously pulls out his phone, whispering, “Someone will meet you.” When Logan gets to the boys bathroom, sure enough, there’s Veronica waiting outside of the door. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“What? It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.” 

“Veronica!” 

Laughing, she assures him, “I just did a sweep. It’s empty.” 

“In that case...” Logan places a heated kiss on her lips while pulling her inside. 

“Logan!” She gives him a little shove. “The girls bathroom is one thing but boys are gross. Every surface in here is probably covered in urine.”

“Relax, Pooh Bear, it’s our cover.”  

He checks the stalls and assures himself that the space is truly vacant before turning back to Veronica. 

“I don’t know what this means, but I think Weevil pulled his punch earlier.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but...I think so. Look, not even a bruise.” He points to his cheek. 

Veronica bites her lip, clearly not knowing what that gesture does to him. 

“Hey, why don’t we—”

She waves her hand, distracted. “I’ll think on it. Outside. While you do whatever it is you need to do.”

He pouts as she leaves the bathroom.

Later, Mac drags him to the library during his free period. His  _ free _ period. He tries to protest and she shakes her head, “I’m not going to piss off Bond.”

So he does homework.  _ Homework. During  _ school. For an  _ hour  _ before one of the library computers is available and he can Ask Jeeves for Alyssa Milano pictures. 

By the end of the school day, he’s more relieved than usual that classes are over. Veronica’s dad has taken on a slew of new cases, and she’s going to Mars Investigations after school to help out. Wallace has practice, Jackie promised the afternoon to her dad, and Cassidy and Mac are tutoring. That means Logan has the whole evening to…figure out why Dick is leaning against his baby.

“Hey, man, it’s my turn to babysit you.”

Annoyed, Logan pushes his friend off his car, checking the paint in his wake. Satisfied it’s intact, he focuses on Dick. 

“What are we supposed to be doing?”

“Surfing or some shit. Wanna play video games and get wasted instead?” 

“You’ve met my girlfriend, right? Tiny. Blonde. Ruiner of lives?” 

Dick shudders. “Okay, no getting wasted. Surfing?”

“Sounds good, man. Meet you there.” 

Dick gives him a thumbs up and heads for his silver truck.

Climbing into the Xterra, Logan drives straight to Crescent Cove. Slipping off his shoes, he grabs the blanket he keeps in the trunk, and lays out, basking in the California sun as he waits for Dick. 

He’s pleasantly warm, mind drifting with the waves, when a roar fills the air. The sound is so incongruous with Crescent Cove—and the ‘09 in general—it takes him a few seconds to place it. Once he does, he props himself up on his elbows. A herd of motorcycles block in the Xterra. He glances around—the beach is deserted and Dick is nowhere in sight.

“Well. This can't be good.” 

There are six of them and one of him, so, once again, the odds are not in his favor. Maybe this time he can take a few of them with him. The bikers reach him as he’s about to stand. Two guys separate from the rest and hold him down. Logan doesn’t bother to give them the satisfaction of struggling. 

Another, vaguely familiar and bald-headed, steps forward. “You should know this routine by now, Echolls. It's just like when you went after our boy Chardo, except this time, you're on the ground.”

_ Chardo? Really? _ “Somebody needs a history lesson. If I recall, your guys took care of Chardo.” 

“Yeah, only because Weevil sided with a white boy over one of his own.” There are some murmurs of agreement throughout the gang. 

Logan scrutinizes the faces around him.  _ Is Weevil not here?  _ Chardo’s Biggest Fan, who seems to be in charge of today’s felony assault, seizes his momentary distraction and smashes his foot into Logan’s temple. 

* * *

 

He wakes up face down in the sand, lolling his head to the side, tonguing gritty blood out of his mouth. Waves of pain seep into his consciousness. He tries to fight through them, but they keep overtaking him, dragging him into their depths. 

The part of his brain experienced in navigating such turbulent waters tells him to move, get to high ground and regroup, but he can’t get his body to cooperate. There’s certainty in his bones that if he lets himself sink, the misery will wash away, granting him peace. The temptation to succumb nags at him, but a whisper in the back of his mind keeps him from going under. 

There’s something he should be doing, somewhere he needs to be. He tries to focus on that, grasp the thread of clarity floating in his brain, but it’s hard to take hold through the sticky fog clogging his consciousness. 

A shadow falls over his prone form...kid, swimming in an oversized leather jacket, speaking into a cell phone...

The words pile on one another, mixing with the peel of bells ringing in his ears. Logan strains to decipher them, and they slowly begin to space out, rising above the cacophony. 

“Yeah…he’s alive. No, not Veronica...only Logan.” 

_ Veronica. _

Logan shoots up off the sand and the kid stumbles back, dropping the phone. Immediately, Logan’s stomach objects to the abrupt motion and he starts heaving. The pain radiates violently through his body, stars appear, building rapidly—one on top of the other— blanketing his vision, until darkness overtakes him. 

When Logan comes to again, he has the sensation of movement and, inexplicably, comfort. He pries his heavy eyelids open and recognizes the familiar backseat of the Xterra.

Through surges of dizziness, Logan manages to slur, “Blood.”

A snort comes from the driver's seat and Logan tenses when he spies a bald head over the headrest.

“Yes, pretty boy. You’re bleeding. Are you surprised it’s not blue?” 

At the sardonic tone and accurate moniker Logan relaxes his shoulders. 

“Where…?” Logan falters. 

“Sunset Cliffs.” Weevil reassures him.

_ Veronica _ . Logan closes his eyes.

* * *

 

**VERONICA**

Veronica adjusts her earbuds with one hand while she rolls a ball of snickerdoodle dough into the cinnamon-sugar mixture. Her dad is out on a case tonight, Wallace is hanging with Daryl and Backup—they had begged for doggie time—and she ordered Dick to babysit Logan and call her later.  _ Dick can keep an eye on him for a bit, because sometimes a girl’s gotta have her space _ . 

After working in her dad’s office after school, she figured it would be a great night to stay home and bake.  _ Wallace needs his sugar fix _ . As a bonus, she can also catch up on recordings from the bug in Don Lamb’s office. The bug transmits wirelessly to her laptop and then she can download chunks of audio onto her iPod mini to listen to when she gets a chance. She originally sent it to him to give her dad an advantage in the election but...leaving it there won’t hurt.  _ Right? _

Most of the recordings are ridiculously boring—Lamb ordering Sacks around, mocking Leo, sucking up to Inga, and talking to himself ( _ blech _ ) about how brilliant he is. Veronica can only force herself to listen to it when she has a distraction to keep from losing her mind a little. She has the snickerdoodle recipe memorized by now, and the routine of mixing, shaping, and rolling is soothing. Plus, the smell of fresh-baked cookies and cinnamon helps her maintain her equilibrium while she listens.

“Hey, Sacks,” she hears Lamb say. “Any news on the bus?”

“Yeah.” Sacks’ voice is faint, as if he’s standing in Lamb’s doorway. “They just called. Dive team recovered it, it’s been transported to the evidence garage.”

“Great. Take D’Amato and go check it out when you have a lull in the action tonight.”

_ Interesting. They brought the bus up from its final resting place at the bottom of the Pacific. It makes you wonder— _

Her musings are cut off by a knock. She startles and takes her earbuds out, dusting her hands off on her apron as she opens the door a crack.

Weevil stands on her front porch. The shiny dome of his shaved head catches the glint of the security light. He grimly supports Logan, arm draped across his shoulders, bruised and battered.

“I found something. Think it belongs to you.”

Veronica can’t help the gasp that escapes her as she flings the door open all the way. 

“Aw, V, you baked. That’s cute. The apron is...unexpected.”

“Shut up,” she hisses, reaching for Logan, who groans. “What happened? Where’s Dick?”

Weevil shrugs and moves into her apartment with his delivery. “None of my business. Thought you could take it from here.” He lowers Logan onto her couch and dusts off his hands.

Sinking down to the floor next to Logan, she takes his hand. He gives it a weak squeeze.

“I’ll see ya ‘round.” Weevil turns to leave. 

He’s almost through the door when she calls, “Weevil?”

Turning back to her, his face is inscrutable. 

“So help me, God, if I find out you were involved in this, I will destroy you.”

He sets his jaw and nods, letting the door slam behind him. 

Logan catches her attention as he moans and tries to sit up. She gently pushes him back. 

“Shhh. I’ve got you, baby.”   
  
  
  



	7. Trusting a Few

* * *

You’ve reached Logan Echolls, and here’s today’s inspirational message: “‘Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.’ William Shakespeare, All's Well That Ends Well”

* * *

**VERONICA**

After locking her apartment door behind Weevil, Veronica scans Logan for damage. His knuckles aren’t scraped, which makes her blood boil.  _ It must have been a supremely unfair fight if he didn’t get in any hits of his own. _ His left eye is already beginning to bruise, and his lower lip is split. She pulls up his dirty t-shirt to reveal his torso, mottled with red and purple marks—probably from kicks to his ribs. She hopes they aren’t broken.

“Logan? Logan, are you okay? What happened?”

His eyelashes flutter open. “Veronica? What are you doing here?”

“You’re at my house. Weevil brought you here. What happened?”

But he doesn’t answer. She checks his eyes. His confusion might be a sign of a concussion but his pupils are normal-sized. She’ll have to keep an eye on that, wake him up multiple times during the night. She looks him over again.

“Can you stand? We’ve gotta get you a shower and into bed.”

He lurches to his feet and leans on her. “Yeah we do.”

“Logan.” Her tone is a warning but the fact that he can manage innuendo is a good sign in her mind. “Although…”  _ Not sure he should shower by himself in his condition. _

They stumble into Veronica’s small bathroom and she studies Logan. He’s barely able to stand by himself. Then she sizes up the small shower. She sits him down on the toilet seat.

“Stay,” she commands, although based on the way he slumps into the counter, he’s not going anywhere. Slipping into her bedroom, she grabs her cell phone off her dresser, mentally running through who she can call.  _ Where the hell was Dick? He was supposed to be making sure this exact thing didn’t happen. _ Obviously she can’t rely on him. Wallace can’t leave Daryl, Mac was doing something with Cassidy…. She scrolls through her contacts until she finds the number that she wants.

“Hey, Jackie, are you busy? I need a favor.”

After giving Jackie some details and hanging up her phone, Veronica divests herself of her clothing, sans underwear and a tank top. Grabbing clothes for both of them to change into, she hurries back to the bathroom but Logan hasn’t moved.

Veronica turns on the shower, trying to get the temperature right and crossing her fingers that the hot water holds out long enough to get him clean.  _ Logan might be tough but there’s no way he’s ready for the reality of running out of hot water.  _ As careful as possible, she pulls his shirt over his bruised ribs and off over his head as he hisses in a sharp breath.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. “C’mon, Pumpkin.” Pulling off his shoes and then his pants, Veronica levers him upright and then guides him under the spray. He slumps against the tile wall as she soaps him up, being careful of his cuts and bruises.

“Logan, you’re too tall, I can’t reach your hair.”

With a groan, he slides down the wall to sit on the floor. His long legs poke out of the bottom of the curtain and there’s barely room for her to maneuver. As she stands over him and shampoos his hair, he moans again and trails his fingers up her bare legs.

“Hey now! I worried I was hurting you. Behave!”

She tries to sound scolding but she knows it doesn’t come out very fierce. She scrubs his hair gently and rinses, noting a sizeable lump on his head. She does her best to avoid it and keep the shampoo from running into his eyes.

“Logan, what happened?”

She wants to keep her questions to a minimum, to focus on her task, but she can’t stop that one from slipping out.

“I was at the beach...Dick was on his way...and then...Weevil’s gang showed up. I don’t remember what happened after I lost consciousness.” He gingerly fingers the knot on his head.

“At least it’s not bleeding. Head wounds are a bitch.” Her tone is fierce, her teeth clenched again.  _ When you get your hands on Weevil and the guys that did this—but wait, Veronica, Weevil brought him here... _

“Logan, do you remember how you got here?”

He shakes his head, then brings his palms up to cup his skull. “Not really. Just..flashes?”

_ Hmm. Figure the Weevil thing out later. _

Then he draws in a sharp breath, and hugs his torso in response. “Wait, my car!”

“We’ll get it later, don’t worry—”

“No, they put me in my car! Bloodstains on the leather.” His tone is mournful and she can’t believe this is what’s bothering him right now.  _ His love of that yellow monstrosity is beyond understanding. _

“Can you stand?” she asks, squatting down to look him in the eye.

“Uh-huh,” he says, leaning forward and using his hands to push off the floor of the shower. But it’s slippery in the small space and he doesn’t make it very far.

“Hey, I have an idea.” She places his hands on her shoulders and grabs him under the armpits like a toddler and then stands. With her momentum as leverage, she’s able to get him upright. Just in time, too, because the shower water’s cooling. She gets Logan back onto the toilet seat and shuts off the taps. His eyelids slide closed, his skin ashen, but the steady rise and fall of his chest reassures her.

After grabbing some towels and drying them both off, she makes him stand again. Slipping off his Calvin Klein boxer briefs—“Oh, yeah,” is all he manages as innuendo—she helps him into a pair of green athletic shorts. He doesn't comment as she changes out of her wet tank top and underwear and tosses on a pajama shirt and shorts.

“I think you should lay down for a bit, Logan. Come on.” She tugs his arm but he doesn’t move, staring down at the shorts.

“Veronica...where did you get these shorts? They aren’t mine.”

She rolls her eyes. “If you must know, Wallace left his gym bag the other day. It smelled so bad I had to wash everything, I couldn’t stand it.” Her voice turns threatening. “But don’t you dare tell anyone I did his laundry.”

“Whatever you say, Bobcat. Are you getting into bed with me?”

“Unfortunately, not this time.”

As soon as she gets him settled, the doorbell rings.

“Don’t worry,” she says in response to his confused look. “I called in reinforcements.”

She hurries to the door and opens it wide for Jackie, arms full of shopping bags. She dumps them on the small kitchen island.

“Where’s Logan? Is he okay? What can I do?”

Veronica waves towards the back of the apartment. “I got him cleaned up, he’s in my room.”

As Jackie is about to rush off, Veronica grabs her arm, halting her progress.

“Jackie.” She swallows. “Thanks for coming and helping me out.”

A warm smile crosses her pretty face. “Of course.”

Before Veronica can say anything else, her cell phone rings from her bedroom. She hurries to answer it so it doesn’t bother Logan, with Jackie on her heels to check on him.

Seeing the name on the screen, she growls. Glancing at Jackie and Logan, she steps into the living room to take the call.

“Dick, what the hell? You had one job—”

“Ronnie, I can’t find Logan!” He cuts off her rant. “I went to grab my board. I don’t know where he is and—”

“He’s here. Weevil brought him but they found him on the beach and jumped him.” She takes a deep breath. “Dick, listen to me. Do. Not. Retaliate. Let me handle this.”

“But Logan—”

“I’ll take care of him and Weevil. And if I need your special brand of helping, I’ll let you know.”

“I tried, Ronnie.” He sounds a little bit broken. She sighs.  _ Just one more 09er boy to take care of _ . He can’t see it but she rolls her eyes at him anyway. It makes her feel a little better, at least.

“I know. Thanks for calling, Dick.”

She hangs up her phone and rifles through Jackie’s purchases. It looks like she bought the entire ‘pain relief’ aisle at the drugstore—bandages, medical tape, peroxide, Neosporin, gauze, Icy Hot, Band Aids, Advil, and— _ wait, is that a bottle of Percocet? Yep. With Terrence Cook’s name on the label. _

Shaking her head, Veronica moves back into her bedroom. Jackie has her hand on Logan’s forehead but she looks up at Veronica, concerned.

“Do you think he has a fever? I don’t know anything about taking care of people. This is what they do on T.V.”

Veronica huffs a laugh. “Um, infection is probably something to monitor but I cleaned his cuts so that’s a good start. We could apply some hydrogen peroxide or Neosporin to be sure but I doubt he has a fever.”

She points to her laptop. “How about you look up how to treat a concussion, what to watch for, and what to do about his ribs? Should we wrap them?”

Logan opens his eyes at her words and tries to sit up. “No, don’t wrap them, at least not tightly. I think they’re okay.”

“How do you…” Jackie starts to ask, looking up from Veronica’s computer at her desk, but trails off at Veronica’s firm headshake. “Never mind. I’ll look up the concussion stuff.”

“And I like Neosporin better than hydrogen peroxide,” Logan continues, his voice weary. “Does the same job but it’s less messy and doesn’t sting as bad. Since you already rinsed everything in the shower.”

Veronica perches by him on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got the crap beat out of me. Hell of a headache. But I’ve been worse so…”

She runs her fingertips over the side of his face as his eyes flutter closed.

“Okay,” Jackie reports. “With a concussion, you’re supposed to have someone stay with you for twenty-four hours. Sleeping is okay but you should ask a doctor if you need to wake up every few hours.”

“No doctors,” Logan mumbles, eyes still closed.

Veronica grimaces. “I suppose we should err on the side of caution and wake him, then. What are we looking for?”

“Well, some of these things are pretty hard to gage—headache, drowsiness, irritability. I mean, he got beat up, all those symptoms could be normal.” Jackie makes a face. “But seizures and pupils that aren’t the same size seem obvious.”

“Yeah, he’s always irritable.” Veronica ruffles Logan’s hair affectionately. He nuzzles into her palm.

“Um, it also mentions slurred speech and confusion, along with nausea.”

“And if we spot any of these signs?”

“Take him to the emergency room.”

“Okay,” Veronica sighs. “Not the most restful night ahead of us but we can handle it.”

Before she can say anything more to Jackie, her phone begins to play ‘Private Eyes.’

“For crying out loud, it won’t stop ringing,” she grumbles, checking the caller ID on the screen. “I’ll be right back. And Logan, stop messing with my ringtones.”

But he doesn’t reply; he’s already asleep. Veronica forces a carefree note into her voice. “Hey, Pops, how’s your date? Calling to let me know you’re staying out late?”

“Veronica, where are you right now?” His steely tone is anything but carefree.

“Um, at home? Why do you ask?”

“Are you alone?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Do not, I repeat, do not leave the house under any circumstances. I have some things to take care of tonight and when I get home tomorrow, you’re going to tell me all about the dead guy on the beach. You know, the one with your name on his hand?”

She gulps. In the middle of everything else that was going on, she had forgotten about Curly Moran.

“Dad—”

“This is not an excuse for Logan to sleep over, though,” he cuts her off. “Shake his hand goodnight and send him home. I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait!” She raises her voice before he can hang up. “Logan was in a fight. Well, was jumped by the PCHers. He’s here, and so’s Jackie. They can stay tonight, right?”

Her father sighs into the phone. “A fight, Veronica? Really? Don’t think I didn’t also hear about his arrest this week, either. It sounds like we need some Daddy-Daughter time when I get home tomorrow.”

He doesn’t even let her explain before he hangs up the phone.

_ Great. Now you have your dad to manage, too. Good luck, Veronica. _

* * *

 

The next morning, Logan is doing better. His bruises look worse and his muscles are stiff—all kinds of things are stiff, actually. Veronica tries not to stare too openly as she shoos him into the shower by himself.  _ It’s not the worst thing in the world if he uses all the hot water. You need a cold shower. _

On the other hand, she can’t stop thinking about him and how glad she is that he’s not seriously injured. Maybe it’s a good idea to conserve water...Jackie’s already left and she should probably make sure Logan is okay in there by himself...

Veronica slips into her bathroom and locks the door, stripping off her pajama shorts and t-shirt. Peeking in the tiny space between the curtain and the tile wall, she spies Logan using her toasted marshmallow-scented body wash.

“Here. Let me help.” Her voice is husky as she steps into the shower and pulls the curtain closed behind her. The water runs in rivulets down Logan’s toned body and she imagines trailing their path with her tongue. Heat begins to gather in her center, throbbing between her legs. He turns to face her, eyes wide with surprise, and hands her the bottle. He watches intently as she rubs the lather across his chest and down over his stomach. She can’t help but notice his excitement, growing larger as her fingers trail further south. 

She’s never showered with another person before, not like this. In fact, she’s not sure she’s done anything quite this aggressive—well, ever. But Logan makes her feel equal parts safe and bold. She takes a deep breath and drops to her knees.

“Veronica.” His voice comes out strangled. “What are you doing?”

She looks up at him. She’s studying his arousal, trying to decide how to start. “Is this okay?”

Leaning closer to him, Veronica watches, curious, as he swells even larger before her eyes. She’s inexperienced but Lilly had shared tips freely. She hadn't wanted to try them out on Duncan when they were together but she understands the basic mechanics of the act. It had certainly crossed her mind this summer with Logan but she wasn’t confident enough to try it at the time.

“Yeah, but...are you sure you want to?”

Veronica nods vigorously. “Will you let me know what you like?”

She experimentally licks a stripe along his shaft from the base to the tip and he throws his head back, groaning. “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna like everything you do.”

His reaction encourages her to take him in her mouth, having a contest with herself to see how far she can fit him in each time before sliding him back out. The hot water feels great as it cascades over her skin and Logan’s little moans in the back of his throat make her bold. 

She remembers one of the tips Lilly had told her and starts bringing her tongue into play, swirling it around his tip every time she pulls him out of her mouth, adding some suction as well.

Logan’s breath comes in short pants—she hopes this doesn’t hurt him—and he leans against the tile wall, bracing himself with one hand, tangling the other in her hair. He seems to like what she’s doing and it boosts her confidence further, not to mention seriously turns her on. She doesn’t want to make his injuries worse, though.

“Are you okay? This doesn’t hurt you?”

“Oh god, please don’t stop,” he pants. “Unless, of course, you want to and then…”

His words turn into a groan as she resumes what she was doing.

“Veronica.” Logan’s voice is deep and commanding, the same tone he used in his suite the other night before they were interrupted. “I want you to touch yourself.”

A little thrill goes through her at the request. _Something to examine later, Veronica._

Pulling back, Veronica looks into his eyes. His desire for her is plain on his face—and other places, too. She’s certainly given herself an orgasm before. Those months they dated this summer, full of back seat make-outs and pent-up sexual frustrations, left her many opportunities to explore her body and discover what she liked. She’s not embarrassed by the idea, exactly, but she hesitates. She’s never done this with an audience.

He bobs his eyebrows. “Please? It’ll be fun.”

_ He hasn’t steered you wrong about this yet.  _ Keeping her eyes locked on his, she continues to suck him in and out of her mouth. She anchors herself on him with one hand, moving out of the way of the spray, and slides the other down her body, touching herself. She’s dripping wet—and not from the shower.

“Mmmm,” she moans, and Logan jerks his hips. He must like that. She does it again and moves her hand faster. As she feels her own orgasm building, she’s able to take him deeper, moaning more in the back of her throat. He thrusts again, pulling away and spilling onto the shower tile and down the drain, letting the water wash it away.

His eyes lock onto hers as her fingers fly, rubbing furiously. The pleasure builds...more...higher...then it crests. She can’t stop from crying out as she topples over the edge. The endorphins flood her body as she sits back on her heels, panting. Her heart pounds in her chest and Logan pulls her up, crushing him to her in a kiss.

“Careful!” She steps away. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“You could never.” The look he gives her is so tender, she can’t meet his eyes.

Studying his split lip instead, Veronica runs the pad of her thumb over it. “Well, let’s not test that theory. Did you get clean in the shower? Or just really, really dirty?”

She gives him a baudy wink, deflecting the intimacy, and he rewards her with another kiss. “That was literally the best shower I’ve ever had, Bobcat.”

“Based on the hot water situation around here, it’s probably going to have to come to an end soon.”

Logan eyes the shower head and the water temperature begins to drop, as if on cue. “No problem.”

She steps outside the curtain, grabbing them each a towel as he shuts off the taps. “You’re welcome to shower at The Grand anytime you want. Endless hot water is only one of the services offered.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. But we need to be dressed and ready, looking considerably less satisfied, when my dad gets home.”

Logan opens the towel he’s wrapped around himself and glances pointedly at his groin, now lying limp, nestled in his dark hair. “Yep, mentions of your dad are definitely not a turn-on.”

She rolls her eyes. “C’mon. Let’s get you all bandaged up again.”

“Oooh, playing doctor? Do you have a naughty nurse outfit to wear?” He squeezes her ass through the threadbare towel that she wraps around her body. She stops short of shoving him playfully.

Instead she wags a finger in his face. “You’re incorrigible.”

He grabs her finger and pops it in his mouth, sucking on it and making her knees go weak all over again.

“We don’t have time for round two right now. Stop being a sex maniac and keep it in your pants.” Her voice is breathy, though, and not very threatening.

“I’m not wearing pants.”

“Well go put some on.”

He tugs her to him, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her, conveying his desire, satisfaction, and gratitude. She returns his kiss, trying to be mindful of his injuries, and only pulls away when her towel starts to slip.

“More of that later, when you’re all better. I don’t want to hinder your recovery.”

He scoffs. “Orgasms are natural pain killers. If you think about it, I probably need more. Frequent doses, too.”

“I’m gonna need to see a doctor’s note.”

With that, she heads into her bedroom to change and tries unsuccessfully to wipe her wide grin off her face.

* * *

“Veronica? Honey, where are you?”

She throws on her favorite green hoodie and hurries out to the living room to meet her dad. Logan is still in the bathroom, changing back into the clothes she had hastily shoved at him—Wallace’s green shorts and one of Logan’s own t-shirts that she had ‘borrowed,’ with no intention of returning. She wants her dad to see they were getting dressed in separate rooms. He should have no suspicions that Logan has seen her naked or touched any part of her body that doesn’t have fingers.

“Hey, Dad.” She gives him a hug. “How are you?”

He doesn’t answer but instead looks around their small apartment. “Where’s Logan?”

She jerks her head in the direction of the bathroom. “Getting ready.”

Glaring at the door, he says, “Do we need to have a talk about him?” 

“Nope.”  _ Deflect, deflect, deflect _ . “He needs to stay here a little longer so I can keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.”

She smiles sweetly, the picture of a doting daughter, she hopes, and not a girl who fooled around in the shower. He eyes her suspiciously. 

“Well, part of what I have to say concerns Logan, too, I want him to be here for this little chat.”

_ Uh-oh. Is Dad planning on giving Logan The Talk? No time to prepare him. This is gonna be a disaster. _

“Um, Dad. Are you sure now’s the best time for that?” She tries to stall. “I mean—”

“Ah, there he is now.” Her father cuts her off as Logan walks into the living room. His hair is still damp and he smells faintly of her body wash. “Logan, have a seat.”

Keith gestures to the couch as he sits down in his striped armchair. Veronica perches, closest to her dad—keeping space between the men is probably wise—and pats the cushion next to her. She laces her fingers through Logan’s as he carefully lowers himself onto the couch.

Her dad points at her. “You first. How long have you known about Curly Moran?”

_ Whew. This conversation doesn’t seem that bad compared to  _ The Talk. 

She gulps. “Um, three, three and a half weeks?”

Keith shakes his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d freak out.” She stares down at her fingers, entwined with Logan’s. “How’d you find out?”

“I made a little visit to the sheriff’s office to congratulate Lamb in person. He happened to mention it.”

Grimacing, Veronica tries to explain. “I’d never heard of him, Dad, but I thought it might be connected to the bus crash. I started looking into—”

“So help me, Veronica, if you were investigating this by yourself—”

“No, sir. I wouldn’t let her. I was keeping her safe,” Logan interjects. 

Keith’s struggle is plain as he tries to keep his temper in check.

“With all due respect, Logan, you can’t even keep yourself safe.” He eyes Logan’s obvious injuries—the black eye, split lip, and bruises—and Logan flushes. Keith sighs. “Although if it makes you feel better, it might take an army to keep Veronica safe.”

Her dad runs a hand over his face, haggard. Veronica opens her mouth to retort but he cuts her off.

“I don’t know what you learned about Curly, but I discovered some things that worried me. Lamb seemed to think he was connected to the bus crash. His name was familiar to me but I couldn’t place it. Until I visited his garage and saw his poster for ‘The Long Haul,’ with Aaron Echolls. I must have taken your mom to see that movie three times the summer it came out. Couldn’t get enough of it.” He chuckles over the memory but then sobers and stares at Logan.

“Well, I don’t mind admitting that after our last encounter with Aaron, I didn’t love the connection. So I paid him a visit.”

Logan gulps. “You, you visited my dad?”

“Yep. He’s not the easiest person to get access to but I have my ways. I flat-out accused him of causing the bus crash to get to you, Veronica.”

“And?” she whispers, almost afraid to hear what he has to say.

“He didn’t know anything about the field trip. Claims he and Logan have no contact, on account of your emancipation.”

Keith looks to Logan who nods, verifying the truth of the statement.

Her dad leans back in the chair, gazing up at the ceiling. “Well, there goes that. At least now he knows how easily I can get to him. A little threat never hurt anyone.”

_ A little threat. Dad, you’re a genius _ . Veronica files that helpful idea away for later and sighs in relief.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Curly. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“It’s called being a parent, Veronica. Something you’ll understand in about  _ fifteen years _ .” Logan stiffens next to her.  _ Dad, seriously. Stop being embarrassing _ . “And I’ll worry less if you do a better job of telling me what’s going on in your life.”

“Okay.” She jumps up and plants a kiss on the top of her dad’s bare head, hoping this signifies the end of the conversation.

“Nuh-uh. Sit back down.” He points at the couch.

_ Wishful thinking. _ She complies with his request and links her fingers back through Logan’s.

"Logan, what happened to you yesterday?”

Logan squeezes her hand, obviously uncomfortable with the interrogation. She tries to send soothing thoughts through their connection.

“Uh, I’m not exactly sure. I was at the beach, the PCH gang showed up, I got knocked out, and someone brought me here?” He looks to Veronica for confirmation and she nods.

“Is this about the issue on the bridge this summer?”

Veronica can’t stand it any longer. She jumps up and begins pacing. “Dad, Logan didn’t kill Felix, he’s innocent. That eye-witness must be lying. If I could—”

“Veronica,” he cuts her off. “I’m not dumb enough to tell you to stay away from it; I know you won’t. But I’m serious about this. No taking risks. Be careful, okay?”

She nods vigorously. “Of course.”

“And you.” Her dad points at Logan. “Take care of yourself so you can keep an eye on her, hmm?”

Logan gulps, nodding. “Yes, sir.”

“No more keeping secrets, Veronica.”

She gives her father a winning smile.  _ Sure, Dad. But just so we’re clear—what happens in the shower, stays in the shower. _

* * *

 

**LOGAN**

“Why are we meeting, again?” 

Logan’s question isn’t strictly necessary. Veronica already told him that Weevil needs their help. But while he’s as curious about the situation as she is, he refuses to save Weevil’s ass without comment. It just doesn’t work for him. He wrinkles his nose at Weevil’s leather boots, propped up on his coffee table.

Veronica rolls her eyes and knees Weevil’s leg, knocking it to the beige rug. 

“We’re meeting because Weevil needs our help.” 

Logan effects a pout, mostly because she thinks it’s cute. 

“And we’re helping because,” she adds before he can muster a clever protest, “Weevil pulled his punch when he hit you at school and he wasn't involved when the PCHers attacked you. Something is up.” 

"Fine, but I don’t see why I have to be nice. I’m not sure I can stomach it, Veronica. I’m delicate.” 

“Honey Bunch, our friend Weevil here not only brought you to my house, he put a blanket down in the Xterra. Not one drop of blood on the backseat.” Veronica reminds him. 

That’s true. And it’s more than enough reason to pull back on the snark. Logan had been more worried about his baby than the possible concussion. He’d never thought he’d be so relieved to see a sandy blanket on his leather seats.

“Hey, man, thanks for that.”

“Yeah, no problem. Blood’s a bitch to get out.”

They share a rare smile of accord and Veronica growls impatiently. “Great. Now, can we please do this?”

“Not now, Bobcat. We have company,” Logan faux whispers and pretends not to notice her “I’m not amused” face as Weevil clears his throat for attention. 

“As entertaining as this has been, can you two focus? If the wrong people see us together, that would be bad.” He gestures towards Logan. “We need to be quick.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “I’m not good at quick. Well,” he amends, “I’m  _ good _ at it, it’s just not my personal preference.”

Weevil’s expression darkens. “You don’t want to take this seriously, fine. Lemme show you  _ my _ preference, Richie Rich.” He stands, fists at the ready.

Veronica hops up and pushes Weevil back onto the couch next to Logan. “Can you two stop with the flirting already? We need to come up with a plan.”

_ She’s so cute when she’s jealous. _

“I have a plan.” Weevil sits back on the couch with a huff. 

“Oh, really?” Veronica makes a sweeping gesture, giving him the floor before settling on the other side of Logan. “Do tell.” 

“Well, V, I told you that kid Kelvin said my boys were dealing. If it’s true, then my boys aren’t my boys anymore, are they?”

Logan raises a brow at Veronica and she clarifies. “Weevil doesn’t let the PCHers deal drugs. If they are, then they’re getting their orders from someone else.” 

Ah, that would explain some of the looks he saw when drugs came up at their fight. He wonders if the guys Veronica inevitably catches will be the same ones who jumped him.

Veronica turns back to Weevil. “The plan?”

“I thought Pretty Boy here could try to score off one of my crew. Tell me which one comes through.” Weevil puts feet back on the table and crosses his arms across his chest. “I got it from there.”

“You need Dick.” Logan declares as he shoves Weevils legs.

A beat of silence, then Veronica tilts her head. “Casablancas, I presume?” 

“Obviously. Get your mind out of the gutter, Sweet Pea.” Logan chides, patting her knee. 

“I’m too close to Veronica. Also,” he gestures towards his bruised face, and pats Veronica’s knee—soothing this time— when her fists clench. “But everyone knows Dick likes to party. They’ll never suspect him.”

Veronica takes a deep breath and Logan and Weevil watch as, gaze unfocused, she mentally processes the scenarios. “That could work.”

Logan and Weevil’s twin looks of surprised triumph collide over her head. They glance away before she notices.

“Okay, we have a decent plan. Now what about the attack on Logan? Weevil, if you didn’t order it, how did you find out about it?”

“One of the new recruits, young kid, called me. Guess he was too...delicate to leave your boy for dead.”

“What about the rest of the PCHers? Did they tell you about it?” Logan presses. Maybe Weevil has a few more loyal than he thinks.

“Nothing yet. We’ll see what they say at school tomorrow, when you come in looking all manhandled.” 

“Be sure to be appropriately impressed until we figure out what’s going on.” Veronica instructs. 

“Hey!” 

“Sorry, Sweetums.” She pinches his cheek. 

“Alright, I gotta get out of here. My cousin works the night shift in room service.” Weevil hauls himself up and stretches. “Nice couch you got there.”

“We like it.”  Logan winks. 

Veronica elbows him. Laughing, Logan stands up to speed along Weevil’s exit process. 

“See you ‘round, V. Later, Pretty Boy.”

Logan lets him out with a parting, “Catch you later, Vin Diesel.” 

“You know, he probably likes that nickname,” Veronica comments from behind him.

Spinning in place, Logan leans back against the door, grinning. “Not as much as I like Pretty Boy.”

“Well, you are pretty.” She moves into his arms and cups his face, stroking his cheekbone with her thumb, her touch almost as soothing as the concern in her eyes. 

Sliding his arms around her, he nuzzles her neck, taking little nips of skin and kissing them all better.

“What time do you have to be home?” He licks a trail from the base of her neck, to her jaw, then tugs lightly on her ear lobe with his teeth.

Stroking the back of his neck, she pulls him down for a deep kiss. “Dad’s home, but I have an hour,” she answers, her voice suggestive.

“An hour?” He presses his lips to her forehead, her nose, her mouth. “I can work with that.” 

He is good at quick, after all. Even if it's  _not_   his preference. 

He picks her up to carry her into his room when the door opens behind him. 

“Ronnie!” Dick rushes in to greet Veronica. “Are we ready to retaliate?” 

She wiggles in Logan’s arms and he reluctantly lets her down. He tugs hopefully at her sleeve trying to move her towards his room. “Sorry, Dick we were about to—“ 

Veronica stills him with her hand as she asesses Dick thoughtfully. It’s her “I need a favor” face and as effective as a bucket of cold water. 

“Actually, Dick, we could use your help.” 

Logan deflates as his precious sixty minutes disappear. 

* * *

When Veronica leaves with orders for Dick to take care of Logan, Logan tries not to pout. It’s not like she’s there to appreciate it. 

He kinda hoped he’d be giving the orders tonight, but it’s probably for the best. They haven’t talked about that bout of foreplay yet and he doesn’t want to push. 

With a sigh, Logan grabs a water from the fridge and slouches next to where Dick is flipping channels on the couch. He stops on this week’s Madame Sophie and they watch as the camera pans across the audience for its next “surprise” guest. 

“I’m sorry you got your ass kicked, Dude.” 

“Uh, thanks, man. Not your fault.” And it’s not. He’s pretty sure it’s not even his own fault this time. Belt or jacket, something about his pretty face seems to attract leather and violence. 

Veronica doesn’t seem to blame him either. Any latent fear that she would rage at him for having a death wish disappeared the moment she took his hand, called him baby. Somehow he’s come to equate the endearment with “I love you, you matter.” 

Dick fiddles with the remote, passing it from hand to hand. 

“So...Ronnie. She’s not going to, like, cancel all my credit card or tell chicks I have VD or anything, right?” 

The corner of Logan’s mouth tips upwards.  _ Some reputation his girl’s got. _

“Nah, man. I think you’re good.” 

Dick nods but keeps playing catch with the remote. 

“Hey. She trusted you to keep an eye on me tonight, right?” 

Dick tosses the remote into the table and relaxes into the cushions. “Ronnie does seem cool these days.” 

“The coolest.” Logan agrees returning his attention back to the TV as Madame Sophie psychically connects with some poor sap’s Uncle Roger. 

“Does that mean no more dancing on bridge rails or picking up guns in Mexico?” 

Logan freezes. “You knew about the gun?” 

“Yeah, you left it in your duffle. Found it when I went looking for condoms.” 

Huh. Apparently, he’s shit at hiding guns. He really ought to work on that.  _ Note to self: stop leaving guns near condoms. This is a highly trafficked area.  _

At least Veronica had the good sense to put the stupid thing in the closet safe, even if she refused to do so without comment. 

“Hey, listen—“

“It’s fine, dude. As long as you’re okay.”

They’re interrupted by a knock at the door. It’s probably for the best. If Dick says it’s fine, then it’s fine. He’d rather not dwell on what that idiotic mistake cost him, anyway. 

Logan moves to answer it but Dick stops him. 

“I got it. I gotta look out for you.” 

Works for him. With a shrug, Logan allows him to roll off the couch and play butler. 

Dick swings the door open and his expression clouds as he ushers Wallace and Jackie inside. 

The two drop their takeout and grocery bags on the coffee table, and Logan gives them a small wave.

“Did Ronnie tell you to come here?” Dick demands from behind them. 

Wallace frowns in confusion. “Um, no. Why?”

Dick’s brightens immediately. “No reason. Welcome, Compadres.” With a bounce in his step he scoops up the grocery bags.

Jackie and Wallace settle on the couch and Logan mutes Madame Sophie, stomach growling with each container of Chinese food Wallace unpacks. 

“Ice cream’s going in the fridge.” Dick calls out from the kitchen area. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Jackie swipes a pair of chopsticks from the pile, using them to gesture to Logan’s battered face.

“The plan?” Logan asks, popping a potsticker in his mouth. What’s the deal with plans today? He feels like he should be off twirling a mustache somewhere. 

Jackie nods. “Yes, the plan. Like it or not, Killer, someone messed with the property of one Veronica Mars. I hear that gets your life at least ruined around these parts.”

Property of Veronica Mars. He likes it. Jackie grins at his smug look and he winks at her. 

“Ronnie says no retaliation.” Dick announces as he walks over to plop on the couch.

Jackie’s jaw drops a little, then she gives Logan a narrow stare. “Which means… she’s doing something without backup?”

Logan steals a wonton from Wallace. “Probably.” 

“You’re just going to let her do something stupid?” Dick protests. “Didn’t you find her trolling a biker bar a couple of weeks ago?” 

“She wasn’t—“ Logan rubs his temples. Sometimes talking to Dick is like playing a kids game of telephone. The information never comes out quite right. “She’s not going to do anything dangerous. She promised.” 

Which isn’t exactly true. She could still do something dangerous, but Logan’s confident that she’ll take him with her. 

“I hate to agree with Dick,” Jackie glances over at Dick, who is stuffing an entire egg roll in his mouth, and curls her upper lip, “Really I do, but this is Veronica we’re talking about.” 

“The worst that could happen is she gets arrested.” Wallace assures her. “And if she does, Logan, here, is her one phone call and he’ll post bail.” 

“Wallace gets to call Keith or Cliff, depending,” Logan adds reaching for the fried rice. They worked this out ages ago.

“And I’m the getaway car. Wally's is shit and Logan’s is too yellow.” Dick finishes proudly. 

When they devised this plan, Wallace had tried to explain to Dick that they didn’t need a getaway car, but Logan agreed to it. Dick is always worried about being left behind and if a little imagined responsibility makes him happy, why not?

Jackie doesn’t seem too impressed with their arrangement. “Does Veronica know about this?”

The boys eye each other.

 “Nah, why would we tell Ronnie?”

Jackie rolls her eyes, muttering something about “boys” and Dick shushes her. Her jaw snaps shut, probably more from shock than anything. Logan wonders how many times a day his friend unknowingly has a near death experience. 

Dick grabs the remote and turns up the volume as Sheriff Don Lamb steps up to the front desk of the police station and declares the bus crash an accident.

Logan tunes out the reporter’s follow up and searches for his cellphone. Glancing around he notices that everyone but Dick is doing the same. He raises a questioning brow at him, and he shrugs.

“I don’t have Ronnie’s number.”  

“I’ll put in on speaker.” Wallace offers, fingers already pressing Veronica’s speed dial. He hits a button and places it on the table. 

“Hey, Buddy! What’s the 411?”

“Hey SupaFly, you seen the news lately?”

* * *

**VERONICA**

Veronica drops her books onto their lunch table as Logan slides into the seat next to her and presses a kiss to the top of her head. Glancing around surreptitiously, she rests her fingers on his upper thigh. She squeezes, enjoying his little twitch of surprise.

“Bobcat! What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” She narrows her eyes. “I could use some quality alone time with you, though.”

“Feeling deprived?”

Logan leans over to kiss her when Wallace sits down and starts complaining.

“Man, get a room! You guys are gross.”

“He makes a point, Buttercup. Too bad you used up our hour last night,” he sulks, his breath warm against the shell of her ear. It sends shivers down her spine. She elbows him, harder than strictly necessary. It’s not like she wanted to spend her time with Dick. This case fell into her lap.  _ Just for that, a little bit of torture is in order.  _

“Sorry, Papa Bear.” She wrinkles her nose at Wallace and rubs Logan’s upper leg. He startles at her intimate touch. “We’ll try to maintain acceptable levels of PDA at all times.”

Mac and Cassidy join them and while Logan is distracted, she flutters her hand over his groin. Making a strangled sound in his throat, he tries to cover it with a cough. Solicitously patting his back, she gives him a concerned glance.

“Are you okay, Sweet Cheeks?”

“Are you trying to kill me?” he whispers.

“Maybe.”

He gulps at her feral grin and takes a long sip of his Skist.

"Ditch English and meet me in my office 6th period,” she whispers to Logan as Cassidy and Mac argue over operating systems. Wallace shakes his head and mumbles something about sitting at the jock table tomorrow.  _ He wouldn’t dare. _

The intensity in Logan’s eyes burns bright. “God, you’re hot when you’re bossy.”

“Yeah, you are too,” she mutters under her breath.

The power of his gaze amplifies. “We’re gonna talk about that.”

She tosses her hair and turns to Dick as he climbs onto the bench next to Logan.

“Richard. What do you have for me?”

Dick lobs her a red Altoids mints container. She eyes it warily before Logan snatches it out of her hands and shoves it in his pocket.

“Do I have bad breath?” Veronica raises an eyebrow, affronted.

“I wouldn’t sample the mints unless you want to go on a long, strange trip, Ronnie.”

“Ah. And who sold you these ‘mints’?” She uses finger quotes around the last word. Mac, Cassidy, and Wallace abandon their discussion, leaning in and listening intently. 

“Well, I spoke to some fine PCHers, lovely gentlemen all around. Let’s see. Hector implied that he’s having sexual relations with my mother; Bootsie insulted my manhood. I’m not sure my self-worth will ever recover.” Dick gives a wide smile, obviously enjoying being the center of attention. Veronica gestures for him to hurry up. “But the one they call Thumper sold me ten hits of E, no problem.”

“Thumper,” Veronica murmurs, exchanging a significant look with Logan. “That’s the second time his name’s come up lately.”

“Thanks, man.” Logan pats Dick on the shoulder. “Appreciate your help.”

“Anytime.” Dick grins but Veronica barely notices. Her mind is racing through possible scenarios. She squeezes Logan’s leg again, capturing his attention.

“I need to know who jumped you. Don’t be obvious about it, but look at the PCHer table and let me know.”

Under his lashes, Logan glances at the table of bikers across the quad.

“Um, the one sitting next to Weevil, I think that’s Hector? He was there. That little pimply-faced guy was there, maybe? Who’s the other bald one by Weeves? Because he was definitely the ringleader. Kicked me in the head. I don’t so much know after that.”

“That’s Thumper.” Veronica can’t keep her contempt out of her voice. “We need to question him. I think I have a plan that will give us the opportunity to do that and get a little revenge for what happened to you.”

She strokes her thumb down his face, smoothing it over his still-bruised eye. “I’ve gotta go. Can I borrow your room key?”

“Gross, V,” Wallace protests. “You’re not being subtle. You know that, right?”

Ignoring him, Logan sends her a lecherous look. “If you’re planning to ditch—”

She cuts him off with a peck on the lips. “No such luck, Lovebug. It’s all part of my plan.” 

She leans up and whispers in his ear, “It’s a little gray on the morality scale, but I think you’ll approve. I’ll tell you about it when we’re alone.” 

As she settles back into her seat, he gives her a tiny nod of understanding. “And we’ll be alone soon?” 

“Sixth period,” she confirms, running her fingers up his inseam. His sharp intake of breath is extremely gratifying. 

Placing a tiny Wallace-approved-type of kiss on her cheek, he whispers, “Should I be worried?”

She stands and grabs her books, scoffing at him. “Please, child. I can handle it.”

Logan halts her, circling his long fingers around her wrist. “No biker bars this time, right?”

“Nope.” She bites off the end of the word, popping the P. “If all goes well, we have a little visit to the Sheriff’s department tonight.”

At his wide eyes, she amends, “On the right side of the law, even, Peaches. How novel.”

She blows him a kiss and hurries off. She has some favors to call in.

 


	8. What They Hide

 

* * *

 “This is Logan with today’s inspirational greeting. ‘Man is not what he thinks he is. He is what he hides.’ André Malraux.” 

* * *

**VERONICA**

Veronica leans against the intake desk in the deserted Sheriff’s department, and checks her watch impatiently for the fourth time in two minutes. _If he’s not here soon, it’s happening without him._  

But before she can check her watch a fifth time, Logan hurries over to her, yawning, and plants a kiss on the top of her head. 

“Sorry, love muffin. I slept through my alarm the first time. Remind me again why we’re doing this at 2 a.m.?”

“Leo’s on the night shift this week and besides, there are fewer witnesses around.”

“Aren’t there cameras?”

Veronica huffs a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll show them to you in a sec. Let’s go.”

She grabs his hand and tugs him through the bullpen, pointing out the disconnected camera mounted on the wall outside the interrogation room, its wires dangling uselessly. 

“Security is pretty lax around here, huh?”

“Well, it’s working in our favor tonight. Look tough,” Veronica says as she opens the door.

“Always.”

The room contains a rickety metal table and three chairs. Thumper is sprawled in one of them, hands cuffed behind him around the chair. He straightens minimally when they come in, eyes narrowing.

“What the hell?”

“Aptly put, Eduardo.” She sits and folds her hands primly on the table. Logan takes the spot next to her and slings his arm loosely around the back of her chair. She can feel his bemused glance on her but he just watches and lets her take charge of their interrogation. 

Thumper half-stands and tries to move toward the door. “I think you have the wrong room, Blondie.”

“Nope.” She gives him a toothy grin and wrinkles her nose. “Have a seat.”

“I don’t have to talk to you.”

“That’s true, you don’t. But do you know why my cop friend picked you up tonight?”

Thumper’s face turns ugly with anger and he shifts in his chair. “He pulled me over for a busted taillight and then found an unregistered gun in my saddlebag, but that’s a lie. I don’t carry.” 

“Interesting. I wonder how that ended up in your possession, then? It would be...unfortunate...if the good deputy did a more thorough search and found the drugs you’ve been dealing, wouldn’t it?”

Recognition dawns across his features. 

“I shoulda known you were in with the cops,” he spits out, eyes flashing. 

Logan shifts in his seat and cracks his knuckles, gaze locked on Thumper. She gives his thigh an encouraging squeeze. 

“Here’s the thing, Thumper. I’m no narc, I hate Lamb as much as you. Maybe more. But Deputy Leo out there?” She leans forward like she’s sharing a secret. “He has a little crush on me. So he’ll probably let you go if I ask.”

Thumper meets her stare, calculating. He can obviously sense a deal coming. “In exchange for…?”

“Just a little information.” She tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear and keeps her gaze locked on him. Weevil has the capacity for malice, she knows this; she has no illusions about his true nature. But Thumper—there’s a darkness in him Weevil doesn’t possess. This is not a boy who would protect her or anyone weaker but instead would take perverse joy in having power over others. The glint in his gaze sends a shiver of fear down her spine but she doesn’t let it show. She adopts a casual pose and waits him out. 

It doesn’t take long—Logan flexing his fingers again doesn’t seem to hurt—before he cracks. 

“What do you want to know?”

“After the bus crash, you received a phone call implicating Curly Moran. You then convinced your gang to beat him up outside The Road Hog. What happened after that?”

Thumper relaxes a fraction. 

“Man, I know Curly’s dead but we didn’t have anything to do with that. I rode off with Hector and Bootsie; you can ask them.”

“Who called you? What’d they say?” Veronica presses. Logan shifts beside her, extending his legs out and crossing them at the ankles, inspects his fingernails. The picture of boredom, he sends Thumper the message the answer’s unimportant. _God, he’s great at this. If only you were alone, you could climb into his lap right now and—_

 _Focus, Veronica_. 

She sharpens her gaze at Thumper and he relents. 

“I dunno, Blondie. I just got a call, that’s it.”

“What made you think it was true?”

He shrugs. “Nothin’. But the crash killed one of our own. We needed to send a message that whoever did it will pay. Lamb announced it was an accident, anyway, so I guess we were all wrong.” 

Wallace had called her just in time the other night for her to tune into Lamb’s circus of a press conference. His smug pandering to the press made her blood boil. He couldn’t find his ass with both hands, let alone figure out anything about the bus crash. _How in the world did he manage to get re-elected?_ Everything she knew about Lamb—lazy and available to the highest bidder— told her to keep digging. 

Veronica rolls her eyes and forces herself to focus. “Idiots, all of you. Lamb, especially. If that’s all you’re gonna tell me, I have no problem encouraging Leo to do a full cavity search.”

She makes a production of standing from the table. Logan follows and they make it to the door before Thumper calls out, “Wait!”

She manages to wipe the smirk from her face before turning back to him. 

“Yes?”

“I still have the number. I mean, it’s a dead-end if you call it, but…”

Veronica holds her hand out, palm up, and waves her fingers at him. “Gimme.”

With a resigned sigh, Thumper stands and digs his cell phone out of his pants pocket, which proves to be a tricky task to accomplish while cuffed. He moves to give it to Veronica but Logan steps in, edging in front of her. 

“Nuh-uh. On the table.”  

Thumper’s eyes burn with rage as he tosses his phone on the metal table with a clatter and Logan scoops it up. He pages through the call log, smirking and raising his eyebrows at various numbers. _He’s having too much fun with this_. 

“Here you go, Pookie.” He holds out the phone so she can see the screen. The date and time stamp match what Weevil told them and fits with Curly’s estimated time of death. 

“Thanks. I’m just gonna...”

She takes the phone and forwards the number to herself. When she’s finished, she tosses the phone back across the room to Thumper, who fumbles the catch because of his cuffed hands. He shoots her a murderous glare but Logan tenses in front of her and Thumper glances away. 

Veronica moves to leave, palm on the doorknob. Logan hovers next to her. 

“One last thing…” She turns back to Thumper, pinning him with her fiery glare. “I don’t care what kind of lies you spin about the bridge this summer—Logan is innocent. I’m gonna prove it. Until then, if you hurt one more hair on his head, I swear to god—”

He scoffs, mutters, “Yeah, I’m real scared, Blondie.”

Veronica wants to strangle him but she refrains She takes a deep breath, reigning in her emotion. Then she taps her finger to her lips, exaggerated pondering. 

“Well, think about how easy it was for us to get to you. It’s the Sheriff’s department, for crying out loud. Everything’s perfectly above board, and there’s no one to argue. Who do you think they’ll believe? The threatening biker? Or little ole’ me?”

Thumper’s eyes widen and she knows she’s made her point. 

“Do whatever you need to, Logan. I’ll be waiting outside.”

She hears the smack of a fist connecting with flesh as she closes the door and wanders into the bullpen. _What does it say about you that Logan throwing punches turns you on, Veronica?_

She saunters over to Leo’s desk, where’s he’s seated, filling out paperwork. 

He clicks his pen and stares up at her with interest. 

“Hey, Veronica. Get what you need?”

“And then some.” She shoots him a grateful smile. “Thanks for the favor, Deputy. I promise I’ll have a pizza delivered next time you’re working.”

“Will you, uh, be delivering it personally?”

She tries not to make a face at his suggestion. _Ugh._ “Only if my bodyguard accompanies me.”

She jerks her thumb in the direction of the interrogation room and helpfully, Logan chooses that moment to appear behind her. He shakes his fingers, scraped knuckles visible. 

“Would you believe, I ran into the door on the way out?”

“Nope.” Leo seems unconcerned.

Veronica grabs Logan’s hand and inspects it, placing a soft kiss on the abrasions. 

“We better get you home, put some ice on this boo-boo.” 

His eyes go dark at her sex kitten voice and he clears his throat.

“Later, Deputy,” he tosses over his shoulder as he steers her out the door. Under his breath, he asks, “I take it you planted my gun on Thumper?”

“Yep. You didn’t know how to dispose of it. I merely solved the problem for you. No one will trace it back to us and it’s safely taken care of now.”

“Efficient of you, I suppose.” Logan shrugs. “Now back to my boo-boo. You gonna put on your nurse outfit?” 

“Maybe.” She wraps her arm around Logan’s waist and pouts. “I’m still mad at you for not showing up to our appointment today during 6th period.”

“I know, Bobcat. I was as sad as you Mrs. Murphy wouldn’t let me get away. But it’s…” he picks up her arm and checks her wrist, “2:30 in the morning and your dad’s out of town, right? We’re both wide awake...wanna come back to my place for a bit?”

Veronica smiles at him. “I could be persuaded.”

* * *

 

**LOGAN**

By the time they get back to the The Grand, Logan is oddly energized. Despite the fact that it’s past 3:00 a.m., he practically vibrates on the elevator ride to the eleventh floor. Call him perverse, but something about seeing her go toe-to-toe with...anyone really, just does it for him. He’s been half hard since the police station.

To his credit, he doesn’t drop to his knees in front of her, doesn’t pin her to the wall with her legs wrapped around his shoulders for a short, but satisfying ride. He was even good in the car on the way over. He didn’t lick his fingers, reach across the center console, and dip them under the waistband of her jeans. He didn’t stroke her clit in those maddening little circles she likes and watch her come in the glow of a traffic light. 

Really, his restraint is admirable, and he’s fucking done.

The minute the suite door closes Logan pulls her to him and covers her mouth in a rough kiss that speaks of missed liaisons and adrenaline. 

Without breaking contact Veronica manages to slip out of her leather jacket, tossing it to the floor behind her back. He draws away to make some wiseass comment about her multitasking abilities, but the words get lost as he takes her in. 

Her delicate camisole is the color of cotton candy and is completely at odds with the layer of leather she just tossed.  Something about the combination pulls at his stomach. He brushes his lips softly against hers and she sighs into it, softens against him, losing her innate defensiveness.

The hands that itched to tear, instead smooth down the silky material, grazing her— _God help him—_ braless breasts, and settling on her hips. Picking her up, he urges her legs around his waist as her blunt nails find the back of his head, teasing the hair there. He shivers as goosebumps break out over his flesh. 

He nips at her neck, walking them to the couch, and sits with her straddling his lap. 

She’s kisses him slowly now, leisurely stroking his tongue with hers, dragging him under, fogging his brain. He has to push down the impulse to rip, bare, plunge. Has to remind himself to let her set the pace, that she probably wouldn’t appreciate it if he ruined her clothes.

He consoles himself by sliding his palms under her top, up her ribcage, flicking his thumbs over her nipples. Veronica moans, licking into his mouth as she rocks against him. 

_They’re wearing too many clothes._

Pulling away from her, he ignores her protests and lifts her shirt, bunching the material at her chest. 

“Hold this.” He directs, and her brows arch with interest as she grips it there, watching him with hot eyes. The intense observation, the implied permission of the pose causes _him_ to growl. 

He trails his open mouth over the swell of her breasts. Nibbling, taking his time. Then smirks inwardly when he feels her turn her body, nearly imperceptibly, trying to get his mouth to catch on her nipple. 

He curls his tongue around the sensitive peak and her eyelids twitch, but stay open, trained on him. Seeing her hold up that shirt as she watches him has him teetering on the edge. He wants her there too.

He brushes his index finger against her lower lip. Her stare doesn’t waiver as her tongue darts out and she takes it in, all the way to the second knuckle, and she— _fuck—_ sucks like she’s on her knees and he’s thrusting into the back of her throat. She never drops the shirt. He swears he almost comes from that alone. 

He presses his other hand to the seam of his jeans to try and relieve some pressure before snapping open the button of hers. 

He slips his finger from her mouth and into the swatch of wet lace covering her center, and draws a long, throaty moan from her as he caresses her swollen clit. He taps out a staccato rhythm against it and she arches her body back, losing the battle as her shirt slips through her fingers and her eyes close. She’s trembling now, but he needs more. He wants her naked, quivering, begging. Screaming. 

Logan throws a glance at Dick’s closed door. He’s not sure if his party-loving friend is home.

“Bobcat, we need to take this to my room.” 

Her eyelids flutter open and he reluctantly withdraws his hand. 

Veronica bites her bottom lip, and tilts her head then rests her cheek on his shoulder. He can feel her heart racing against his skin.

“Baby? Are we okay?”

She murmurs into the crook of his neck, “I’ve been wanting to try something....” 

 _Oh_ . His shoulders relax. _That’s easy_. “Anything. You know that.” Except for sharing. But she knows that, too. 

“I was wondering if…” she trials off. The silence stretches for a beat, two. “I want to pick up where we left off before you got arrested.” 

Her tone is decisive but when he pulls back to search her face, her gaze is fragile. And that hits him in the gut. 

“Are you sure you can handle it?” he leers. 

Her jaw drops slightly and she lets out an amused huff, punching his shoulder. 

_That’s better._

She schools her features and says primly, “Well, if you don’t think you’ll be any good at it…”

_Why are his abilities always called into question? It’s a burden._

He pinches her hip, then tilts her chin up to gain her attention. 

“Go into the bedroom. Take off your clothes.” He hooks a finger under the elastic of her underwear. “These, too, Veronica.” 

She licks her lips, nods. And it’s all he can do not to shove her jeans down, twist the skimpy fabric around his fist and pull. His fingers flex as he smooths the lace into place with care.

Taking her request to pick up where they left off to heart he orders, “Then get on the bed, spread your legs, and wait for me.” 

She gives him a peck on the cheek— the wholesome gesture causing him to blink—and climbs off him. 

To give her a moment to get into position, and to calm himself down, he takes his time removing his shoes and clothes, folding them neatly. He even grabs her leather jacket from the floor and painstakingly drapes it over a chair. When he’s reasonably sure he’s not going to embarrass himself, he takes a deep breath and opens his door—and freezes as all the blood leaves his brain. 

Veronica is exactly where he told her to be: naked, propped up on pillows at the center of the bed, legs spread. What he didn’t expect was to find her, watching him with hooded eyes as she slowly runs a finger through her wetness, circling her clit at the top with the other. 

He knows he’s supposed to be doing something, but how’s he supposed to _think_ without blood in his brain? 

The only thing that comes to mind is fucking her until she’s coming around him, biting his shoulder to stop herself from screaming. 

Her fingers work faster and she moans, snapping him out of it. _That’s his job._

“Did I say you could touch yourself?”

The corner of her lip kicks up. “You didn’t say I _couldn’t.”_

He raises a brow at her. 

Her smirk remains and she sucks her finger clean and tucks her hands under her. “There. Never happened.” 

He manages not to pass out, but it’s a close call. 

“Don’t move,” he instructs, and her gaze sharpens.

Logan puts his pile of clothes on the nightstand and grabs a condom from the drawer. Climbing on the bed to kneel between her open legs, he throws the foil square next to them. 

Her knees spread wider, the invitation clear, and desire spikes, almost painfully, through him. 

Holding himself firm, he runs his length along her slit, coating himself, notching in her slippery heat, making sure his tip nudges her clit with each upward slide. 

He wants her, God knows he always wants her, but now, with her nails biting into his thighs, her back arching off the mattress and his name falling from her lips, his want tips over to sharp, desperate need.

He stops, pulls away, ignoring her growl of frustration.

“Baby, touch yourself. Make yourself come.” With no hesitation, her fingers take his place. 

He quickly rips open the square wrapper and leaves the condom on the bed next to them. 

Wrapping his fist around his erection, he strokes himself, matching the tempo of her hand. Her eyes are glued to his motions, fingers flying faster and faster. He’s not the only one who likes to watch. 

When she stiffens, body bowed, mouth open in a silent scream; he slips the condom on, leans forward on his knees, and sinks into her. 

“God, Veronica.” He groans as she pulses around him, squeezing every inch of him perfectly. 

Her hand falls limply to her side, and her body goes lax. 

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he teases. “We’re not done here.” 

Her grunt of approval spurs him on, and he rocks slowly into her, keeping a steady rhythm with his hips. 

He gazes down where they’re joined, instinctively thrusting faster as he watches himself disappear inside her, over and over again. He’s not going to last long. 

He presses a thumb to her clit, and Veronica’s hips surge up, chasing the pressure.

“Look at me.” 

Her eyes fly to his, blind, dazed. Her body bucks and she lets out a scream he can barely hear over the hammering of his own heart. He lets it drag him under, loses himself in the feeling, in her. Lets go, and follows behind her.

When he can breathe again, when the synapsis in his brain fire just enough to tell him he might be crushing her, he slips out, takes care of the condom and returns to play big spoon. He wraps his arms around her and inhales, soothed by the scent of her silky hair, reveling in the peace that comes when sex softens to intimacy. Over time, with Veronica, he’s come to appreciate that while cuddling might not be the _best_ part, it’s important. 

“Woof.” His little spoon breaths out. Logan huffs out a laugh. He thought she was asleep. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah. That was…excellent.” 

She sounds so satisfied, he almost lets it go. But he has to ask. They promised each other they’d do better this time. That they’d actually talk about what's bothering them. Even if he has to initiate the communication every time, he doesn’t care as long as it happens. 

“No regrets?” 

Her answering silence worries him. _Shit._ He knew it. It felt right in the moment, but he never should have—

”No, no regrets.” She says softly. “Was it...okay?” 

 _Okay_? He’s pretty sure his brain matter is puddled on the floor and his heart is pooled at her feet. 

“Baby, everything we do is amazing, I just want to make sure you’re okay. I wasn’t thinking that first time and…” 

 _Fuck,_ he really doesn’t want to bring this up, but he has to. If they’re doing anything that gives her even a moment's hesitation then they need to talk about it. 

“Maybe because of Shelly’s party, I’m worried...”

He tails off, not sure how to explain without treading on her carefully constructed fantasy of her first time. She’s been clinging to the idea she “wasn’t raped” and he’s never pushed her, even if he doesn’t see how she could have possibly consented, let alone participated. 

Veronica tries turning in his arms but he holds her in place. In his experience, Veronica only exposes her soft underbelly when she’s not looking directly at him, and he really needs to know if she’s okay, even if they don't talk about why he’s concerned. 

She sighs and snuggles back against him. “You don’t have to worry about me.” 

He snorts. If she thinks that’s at all possible, she hasn’t been paying attention. 

Patting his hands resting against her stomach, she amends, “Well, not about that.” 

“Good to know, Bobcat.” Relieved, he presses his lips to her shoulder, and runs his fingers up and down her thigh, hoping to comfort, as they ease into sleep. 

“After…. you asked me to… well _told_ me to… I was into it… and later—you know _after_ the police station—I thought maybe something was wrong with me. Like I’m damaged.”

His fingers hesitate, then continue their soothing motions. 

“I was raped. How could being told what to do, having no choice, turn me on?”

She turns in his arms, and he ruthlessly pushes down the shock of her admitting rape and the sight of her misty eyes actually _looking_ at him, to focus on her words.

“But Logan, the thing is, I _do_ have a choice. I know, with absolute certainty, if I were to tell you ‘no’ or ‘stop’ you would. And you wouldn’t make me feel guilty or bad about it.”

“I wouldn’t. We’d just move on to something that would have you screaming ‘yes.’” He winks at her. 

She shoves at him playfully, probably exasperated, but the tears don’t pool. _Better_. 

“Okay, Jackass. That’s what I mean, though. I can say no to sex, and as long as I’m not running away from you, you won’t say anything about it. I can interrogate bikers, if I bring you with me. As long as I’m ultimately choosing you, you let me be me.” 

 _Is this actually happening? Is she_ talking _to him? Is she working through her feelings? Out loud?_ With _him?_

He’s afraid to move. Hell, he’s afraid to breathe. 

She takes a deep breath for him. “That night, I didn’t choose Duncan. I didn’t have a choice at all, and I didn’t have all the information. He thought I was his sister…When you saw me, I was totally out of it, right?” 

“Yeah, Baby.” He reaches up to stroke her hair behind her ear. 

“So despite what Duncan said… how could I suddenly have had the presence of mind to say...anything, let alone yes?” 

She doesn’t seem to require an answer so he brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, and keeps his mouth shut for once. 

“So… I guess what I’m trying to say is that…” she clears her throat. “I like what we’re doing. It makes me feel… confident and excited. I trust you. It’s fun to let you call the shots sometimes because I know I’m safe.” 

Did he say his heart was at her feet? He’s pretty sure it’s in her hands. 

She shifts gears and exaggerates a pout. “But I do want the opportunity to boss you around every once in a while.” 

 _Having her bossy nature redirected to the bedroom would be… excellent._ He starts imagining the possibilities. 

Snuggling closer she glances pointedly at his swelling groin and mutters, “And put that away, we need to sleep.” 

He grins and kisses her forehead. “Good night, Baby.” 

* * *

_“‘Whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man.’”_

“What is that?” Veronica groans.

“ _‘...He's not a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, he's a thriller…”_

Logan pokes her side. “That’s your phone, Pooky.” 

“‘... _Knocks me out with one shot for the rest of the night.._.’”

He snickers to himself. The key is queuing it up to the right lyrics. It’s a gift. 

“Stop changing my ringtone.” With an irritated grunt she sits up to snatch it from the night table. “This is Veronica.”

Rolling over, he sees its 6:30am. Calling the extra 15 minutes they have before the alarm rings a loss, he switches it off, and heads to the bathroom to get ready. 

He shakes off his disappointment when she doesn’t join him in the shower, and goes through his meticulous morning routine. 

When he walks back into the bedroom, Veronica is sitting on the edge of the bed with her phone in her lap, staring off into space. 

“Pumpkin, what’s wrong? Is it your dad?”

It wasn’t her dad, he changed that ringtone to Secret Agent Man. But He can’t figure out who else would be calling her at six in the morning. 

She shakes her head. “What? No. That was Lizzie Manning. Meg’s awake. She wants to see me.”

“Did she say why?” 

Her voice is hesitant. “No, but…she doesn’t want Duncan to know.”

If Meg wants Veronica’s help, Logan can’t blame Meg for wanting to keep Duncan in the dark. The tiny blonde tends to set the volatile baby-daddy off. 

“I’m going with you.” He sits next to her in the bed, and she leans against him. 

“Okay, we’ll go during Calculus.” 

_Did she just agree? With no argument?_

With a half laugh, she pushes his jaw shut. “I’m going to get ready. And Logan? Change my ringtone.” She tosses him her phone before exiting the room. 

She doesn’t specify to what. 

Whistling, Logan reassigns Whatta Man to his name. That one was inspired. And accurate. Then he concentrates on changing as many ringtones as he can before she gets back. 

* * *

**VERONICA**

Veronica takes a deep breath and pushes the elevator button for the fifth floor. Logan gives her fingers a reassuring squeeze and her heart lurches, ridiculously glad to have him next to her. 

“Lizzie assures me Mr. Manning is at work and her mom had to take Grace to an appointment. All we have to focus on is slipping past the nurses. Think you can bat your pretty lashes, Doll-face, and work your magic?”

“How stereotypical of you, Veronica. What if it’s a male nurse?”

“You think your appeal is limited to women? Because I’ve heard—”

He cuts her off with a kiss and the elevator dings, doors opening. She drops his hand. 

“It’s probably best if it doesn’t look like we’re together. The nurses station is that way.” She points to the left as they exit the elevator. “I’m gonna linger outside Meg’s room until the coast is clear.”

“Meet you back at the car, Bobcat?”

“Sounds good.”

Logan gives her a tiny finger wave and spins, heading towards the nurses station outside Meg’s room. Veronica pulls a magazine from her purse and tries to appear inconspicuous. 

Logan’s natural charm and body language soon pulls all nearby attention to him— _Wonder what he’s saying?_ —and it’s not long before Veronica can ease open the door to room 546 and slip inside. 

It’s good to see Meg resting, not hooked up to nearly as many machines as on her previous visit, and looking more like herself. Her blonde hair has been washed and brushed and fans out on the pillow behind her. Her stomach is noticeably swollen under the blankets and the two heart rate monitors are still beeping. There’s an IV in her arm and dark circles under her eyes, making Veronica regret she has to wake her. But time is limited and Meg did ask to talk to her, so Veronica stands by her bed and gently strokes her arm. 

“Meg?”

Her eyes flutter open. She glances at her stomach and gives Veronica a wry grin. 

“Surprise.”

Veronica returns her smile weakly. “How are you?”

Meg struggles to sit up. “Better, I guess? I don’t know.” She grimaces. “Veronica, I need to talk to you, need to tell you—”

“Hey, Meg, don’t worry about it. I’m really sorry about everything that happened between us, with Duncan and—”

“God, I was an idiot, wasn’t I? Did you know he came to visit me yesterday?”

Veronica shakes her head, mute, and listens. 

Meg huffs a bitter laugh. “Yeah. He apologized but said because of his ‘future prospects’ he can’t associate with me any more.”

“He’s such an ass,” Veronica growls as anger bubbles up inside her. 

“I take it you’re not together anymore?”

Veronica sinks into the chair beside Meg’s bed. She can’t stop the slow, dreamy smile that spreads across her face. 

“No...Logan…”

Meg’s laugh this time is genuine. “You’re such a goner for him, Veronica.”

_Is that true? Would it be such a bad thing these days?_

She covers her face briefly with her hands, composing herself. 

“It’s okay. You two are good together.” 

Clearing her throat, Veronica changes the subject. “So what did you want to talk to me about? I mean, I’m glad we got to smooth things over but Lizzie made it sound like there was something specific on your mind.”

Meg’s complexion is not great to begin with but Veronica thinks she pales. 

“Meg? Are you okay? Can I get you something?”

“Veronica…” her voice wavers and Veronica grabs her hand. 

“Do you want me to get a nurse?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s, it’s my parents, Veronica. You have to help me get away from them.” Meg’s gaze darts around the room and her grip is so firm it almost hurts. 

“Wait, what? Get away from them? What are you talking about?”

“They want to take my baby and make me give her up for adoption, to this really horrible place. It’s called the Levi Stinson Center.” Meg’s brown eyes fill with tears. “Their adoption contracts are all about religious indoctrination and tough love discipline. It's almost a license for abuse. When I think of my child brought up like that…. I can’t let that happen. You have to help me, Veronica!”

Veronica is stricken into silence, processing. Meg’s tears spill over and she continues her plea. 

“You know how religious they are. ‘God wants what’s best for the child, Meg.’” She mocks bitterly. “They want me to have the baby here, then go back to school like nothing happened. I just want to have my baby and move in with my Aunt Chris in Seattle.”

“Um.” Veronica’s mind is whirling, thinking back over all her previous experiences with Meg’s parents. They had always been hesitant to let Meg attend parties or sleepovers. Interactions at their house were definitely characterized by a strict adherence to the rules.  But she hadn’t realized it was this bad. Meg isn’t just upset, she’s scared. “Have you talked to your aunt?”

Meg nods. “A few months back. When I found out I was pregnant. Before…” She gestures at the hospital bed. 

“What do you want me to do?”

“I need to run away, disappear.”

Veronica gulps. It’s not her favorite option, but she _is_ uniquely qualified to make someone vanish. “Don’t you think they’d find you if you’re living with your aunt?”

Meg shakes her head no. “They don’t know I still talk to her. They hate her, won’t have any contact with her after she came out a few years ago.” 

“When are you due, Meg? And how much longer will you be in the hospital?”

“Not until the end of January. And I don’t know, they don’t tell me anything.”

_Is that even legal? Come on, Veronica. Since when does that matter in Neptune?_

Veronica squeezes her fingers, trying to reassure. “Okay, we have a little time, then. It will be easier before the baby is born. Trust me, we’ll take care of everything.”

“But—”

“How’d you get in here?” Veronica jumps as a matronly nurse scolds her. “There’s a no visitors order on this patient! You have to leave now.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, ma’am.” Veronica adopts her best contrite tone. “I know I shouldn’t have, I just had to see my friend and make sure she’s really okay.”

The frown on the nurse’s face softens as Veronica leans in and gives Meg a quick hug, whispering in her ear, “We’ll get it all figured out. I’ll contact you through Lizzie.” 

Out loud, she says, “I promise, everything’s gonna be fine now.” 

She meets Meg’s gaze meaningfully before she slips past the nurse and out the door. 

Glancing around the hospital wing quickly, there’s no sign of Logan’s olive green Henley. Veronica takes the elevator back down to the parking garage, head whirling with everything Meg said. 

The yellow Xterra has many downsides but Veronica will give it this—it’s easy to find. She slides into the passenger seat as Logan turns to her expectantly. 

Setting her bag on the floor at her feet, she meets his stare. 

“Well, Clyde, we need to stage a jailbreak.”

“You know I’m in, Bonnie. Whatever you need.”

“That’s good. Meg’s parents are not supportive and she’s decided it’s time to strike out on her own. I don’t have all the details worked out yet. We still have a little bit of time, but this will definitely require all the efforts of the Scooby gang.”

Logan rubs his hands together gleefully. “Us pesky kids love stuff like that.”

“Thanks for buying me some time and being my lookout.” She gives him a warm smile, full of affection. 

“Don’t you know by now? It’s one of my...top three favorite things to do with you.”

 _Yeah_ , she thinks. _It really is. And that’s just one of the reasons you’re falling for him._

* * *

Veronica peeks her head into the Neptune Navigator TV newsroom during her free period. Her dad had taken a case for the Oliveras family and asked for her help. Their son Marcos had died in the bus crash but they were being harassed, almost like someone wanted them to think Marcos was haunting them. They suspected it was connected to the school district and the bus crash settlement case. _The possibility is horrific but this is Neptune, after all_ . _And since they lost their only child, finding them closure seems like the least we could do._

Her dad had tasked her with learning more about Marcos. Logan very helpfully worked his magic with Ms. Arnold, his biggest fan in the office, and procured a copy of Marcos’ schedule for her. _Hmm. Handsome and useful. He’s a keeper_. After examining his classes, Veronica figures an elective like TV production is the place to start to find people who knew the real Marcos. 

Everyone in the newsroom is working independently on their computers, not paying any attention as she walks in. It looks like they are prepping for tomorrow’s newscast. She heads over to the girl sitting at the ‘Features Editor’ desk.

“Um, hey. I’m doing a story for the newspaper and I was wondering if anyone could tell me more about Marcos Oliveras? He was in this class, right?”

The girl’s dark curls bounce as she shakes her head, frowning. “Yeah, he was here but...I didn’t know him very well. He was pretty quiet, kept to himself.”

Veronica raises her voice. “Marcos Oliveras? Can anyone help me out?”

Most people ignore her or glance away, but at her words, one of the girls in the back of the room startles visibly. Her gaze snaps to Veronica— _Is her name Michelle? Micayla? MacKenna? Something like that_ —but she doesn’t speak up. _Interesting_. 

Veronica’s question is met with silence. She sighs and leaves the room but decides to linger outside, hoping to corner Michelle—she’s almost sure that’s her name—after class. As she casually examines the bulletin board outside the classroom, nonchalant, Michelle hurries out.

“Veronica!” she whispers. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

_Yahtzee._

“Sure, let’s step into my office.” She gestures across the hall at the girls bathroom. After fixing the ‘Out of Order’ sign on the door and securing privacy with the doorstop, she smiles encouragingly at Michelle, who’s twisting her hands together and leaning against the counter.

“Did you know Marcos?” she asks, hoping to get the girl talking.

Michelle nods, vigorous. 

“I, um,” she glances down at the ugly tile floor. “I actually had a little bit of a crush on him.”

“I’m having a hard time finding anyone who really knew him. Can you tell me about him?”

A slow, soft smile spreads across Michelle’s face.

“He was pretty quiet, like Kara said. But when you got to know him, he was funny, wickedly funny. Sarcastic and dry and totally unexpected.” Michelle bites her lip.

“I, um, I have a boyfriend. He’s in that class with me.” She gestures in the direction of the Navigator news studio. “So I can’t really…”

“No, I understand. That’s really helpful.” Veronica hurries to reassure her. “I’m doing a story on the bus crash for the Navigator and—”

“The bus crash?” Michelle’s face lights up and Veronica has a strong desire to take a step back. There’s something off-putting about the sheen in her eyes. Michelle pulls her cell phone out of her back pocket.

“It feels kinda good to finally have someone to talk to...you promise you won’t tell anyone I told you this, right?”

“Of course,” Veronica agrees. _Anything to keep the crazy girl talking._

“I had a question for Marcos that day. About the Navigator, of course. He called me back but I was with Mike, my boyfriend, so I didn’t answer. He left a message and…”

Michelle fumbles with the buttons on her phone as her eyes fill with tears. 

“I haven’t played it for anyone else. It’s right as the bus…”

Veronica holds her breath as Michelle hands over her cell phone. She presses the speaker button and a tinny male voice fills the air.

“Hey Michelle. I got your message, I think the story is ready to go but—” 

His speech is cut off by giggles in the background. Marcos pauses and then comes back on the line.

“Sorry. Like I was saying, it’s ready, it just needs—”

This time there’s a loud pop, followed by screaming. Veronica flinches as the voicemail ends. As she turns off the speaker function, she surreptitiously forwards the voicemail to herself.

Michelle didn’t seem to notice the loud noise before the brakes screeching. Her eyes still have a wild glint.

“Did you hear it? They were laughing and happy…” She’s wistful and it’s all Veronica can do to nod rapidly.

She swallows. “Thanks for talking to me, Michelle. That was really helpful.”

“Anytime. You won’t tell Mike, though?”

“Nope, I keep my sources safe.” She manages to wink at Michelle, who softly thanks her and removes the doorstop. She tosses it to Veronica and leaves.

Veronica’s hands are shaking so badly she can barely replace the doorstop, barricading herself into the bathroom once again. _You knew it wasn’t an accident, Veronica. Here’s your proof._

Logan has changed all her preset speed dial settings along with her ringtones but finally, on the third try, she gets the number for Mars Investigations.

“Dad?” she asks after he answers. “I was checking out the Marcos thing—”

“Nevermind, Veronica.” His voice is full of disgust. “I already solved it. You’ll never believe it, it was his parents, trying to milk the school department for more settlement money. I understand their grief, but using it as a payout? Despicable. And they were in here—”

“I’m sorry, Dad.” She cuts him off. “Long story short, I heard a voicemail with audio from the crash. I can play it for you tonight, but, Dad—I heard an explosion.”

There’s silence over the line.

Then, “An explosion? Are you sure?”

“Well, no, but, yeah, Dad. I think so.” Veronica paces the length of the bathroom, phone pressed to her ear. 

“If there was an explosion, then it definitely wasn’t an accident, like Lamb is claiming. That would totally change the direction of the investigation.”

She exhales, still shaky but reassured that he believes her. “That’s what I thought.”

“You’ll play it for me tonight?” Tension laces his words. _You’re not the only one who didn’t agree with Lamb._  

“Of course, Dad. I’m sorry about the Oliveras case.”

“Me, too, honey. Me, too.”

Veronica’s mind reels with the new information. Curly had a history with explosives. Could he have caused the explosion? _Most definitely_. Curly is her best suspect. It’s too bad the burner phone number Thumper gave her was a dead end. If she can find out who wanted Curly dead...and what she has to do with it...and how that bomb was triggered….

She takes a deep breath. Yeah, it’s kind of a long list. _But a girl needs something to put on those pesky college applications, right?_

By the end of the day Veronica has a sketchy game plan and the beginning of a migraine. She’s in dire need of a mental break. Since Logan plans to get the guys together tonight, maybe she should do something with the female members of their crew.

Spotting Mac and Jackie walking towards the parking lot, she hurries to catch up to them. She throws an arm around Mac and loops the other one through Jackie’s elbow. 

“Hey, ladies, it’s Friday night, and the mood is right for some girl time. Wanna have a slumber party, light on the slumber?” 

Mac looks skeptical. “What, like manicures and braiding each other’s hair?”

“Dancing to boy bands and pillow fights.” Veronica nods in agreement. 

“Oh, I think we can do better than that. We’re above such cliches.” Jackie assure them. “Why don’t we do it at my house? We can meet around seven.”

* * *

**LOGAN**

Logan promised Wallace their next nail day would be at his place and, with a little compensation, their usual salon agreed to set up two manicure stations and two pedicure stations right in his living room at The Grand. It was a perfect arrangement, until Veronica added a guest to his list. Now he has to hang back on the couch and wait his turn.

“Why am I here, again? And why am I doing this?” Weevil curls his fingers towards his palms and examines his nails, then holds his hands out to the nail-file-wielding woman seated across from him. “Sweetheart, can you make them shorter?” 

“You’re doing this,” Logan gestures vaguely around the room,“because you sat down in the chair. And you’re here because I need to update you on the visit we paid to your friend Thumper and it ‘would be bad if we’re seen together.’” Logan quotes. “Remember, Mr. Clean?”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to mention he’s the help,” Dick whispers loudly as he slides his feet into the portable foot bath in front of him. 

“Dick, shut up.” Cassidy hisses from the chair next to his brother. He gives the services menu to his pedicurist. “Can you add on the lemon-sugar foot scrub?” 

Weevil narrows his eyes. “Veronica already called and updated me.”  

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Logan studies his own _not_ manicured nails. 

The truth is, Thumper is set to be released this afternoon and Veronica asked Logan to keep Weevil distracted for a few hours. She doesn’t trust the occasionally impulsive gang member not to punch his nemesis outside of the police station. _Go figure._  

“And it’s not that bad,” Wallace assures Weevil, running his neat fingernails through his hair. “Hey, I’m thinking of getting cornrows. What do you guys think?”

Pleased to have something to focus on other than his lack of pampering, and—if he’s being honest—his lack of Veronica, Logan studies Wallace’s locks, trying to picture it. 

“I know how to braid,” he muses out loud. “Trina used to make me do her hair when we were little. Want me to try it?” 

“Uh, yeah, no thanks, man.” 

Logan scoffs at Wallace’s ashen face. And they call _him_ dramatic. 

“Why is nail care important again?” Cassidy frowns down at his feet.

Dick wiggles his toes in the lavender scented water. “The feet are for you, Bro, but the manicure is all for the ladies.” He crooks his index finger suggestively. 

Cassidy wrinkles his nose and turns away from his brother.

_A little crass for his taste, but the man’s not wrong._

“No, it’s true.” Logan insists. “Veronica—“ 

Weevil protests, “Aw, man, come on. I don’t wanna hear about that,” just as a warm, wet towel sails towards Logan from the manicure station, hitting him with a splat. Logan glares in that direction and meets Wallace’s unrepentant stare. 

“All I was going to say,” Logan peels the offending towel from his neck with a mue of distaste, “is that Veronica appreciates a well groomed man.” 

“Still TMI.” Wallace informs him.

 _Fair enough._ Logan supposes he wouldn’t want to hear anything similar about Trina. Shrugging, he throws the towel back at Wallace, who catches it on the fly. When his delicate friend turns his back, Logan sends the blushing nail tech a bawdy wink. 

“Alright, I’m done here.” Weevil stands, flexing his fingers to view the final results. 

Logan hastily scans the room for a reason to keep him there and falls on Weevils smug look. 

“Blondie tell you to keep an eye on me?” 

Batting his lashes, Logan channels his best 50’s ingenue. “Why would she do that?”

“Because Thumper’s getting released today.” 

“Is he now?” 

“Yeah, surprised me too. Thought they’d keep him longer.” Weevil raises a brow. “Especially when I heard he had a gun on him.” 

Logan ignores Dick’s sharp look and casually crosses his legs. “You think you know a person.”

“Yeah, takes all kinds.” Weevil assesses Logan’s expression then gives a short nod. “Alright, you can tell V to relax. I’ll play it her way for now. Recon only.”

Logan sends Weevil a small nod of understanding in return. 

“Weevil, you can take my seat. I’m next for nails.” Cassidy cuts in, oblivious to the undercurrent in the room. He steps into his waiting flip flops and switches places with Weevil as the pedicurist takes the foot bath away to change the water. 

“Hey, dude.” Dick acknowledges Weevil with a nod. 

“Hey. You live here now? Don’t you have a mansion or something?”

“Yeah. Just waiting for Mom to clear out. Beavs was cool living with her, but she was cramping my style.” 

“You have style?” Wallace marvels. 

“Yeah, dude. It’s—“

“Once she signs our trust funds over to us next week you can move back.” Cassidy interrupts. His lips twist downward. “Mom said she has to get back to her ‘family’ so she’ll be gone.”

No one seems to know quite what to say to that. In the interest of keeping Weevil there longer, Logan directs the subject change. 

“So Weevs, we found the witness on the bridge.” 

“Yeah? Who’s out to get you this time?”

“Some plastic surgeon in town.”  

“What’d you do to piss him off?”

Logan jerks his shoulder. _Million dollar question, right?_

“So, did Supa Fly actually get plastic surgery for information?” Wallace asks, chuckling, as he and Dick swap nail stations.

“No, but she had a consultation.”

“So, what now?” Gazing down, Weevil instructs, “I’ll do the sugar scrub, too.” 

“Well, if the name is anything to go by, I think he has a daughter at Neptune High. A freshman. I’m thinking of trying to sweet talk information out of her.” 

“And what does Veronica think of that plan?” 

Logan stares at Wallace incredulously. “You think I told Veronica Mars I recognized her by name alone?”

“She’s hot, isn’t she?” Weevil asks. 

“And blonde.” Logan confirms. 

“Good call.” Dick selects the English Rose hand lotion from the options in front of him. “Ronnie would pull out the piano wire first, ask questions later.” 

Logan grins at Dick. “Just one of the reasons why I love her.” 

“The question is, why does she love you, pretty boy?” Weevil jokes. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Logan brags, gesturing to his own superior form. 

Weevil rolls his eyes, but Wallace raises a concerned brow at him. Logan lets his shoulder rise and fall in response. 

She hasn’t _said_ it, but that just means that when she does, she’ll mean it. That's more than he can say for some of the other girls he’s dated. For now, Veronica fights bikers and cops for him, she includes him in her life and she’s actually fucking talking to him. It’s enough. 

Wallace clears his throat. “So who’s this doctor?”

Logan grasps the subject change with gratitude. “Doctor Tom Griffin.” 

Weevil sits up straight. “Hannah Griffin’s father?” 

 _Huh_. Apparently Logan’s not the only one who knows Neptune High blondes. 

“Yup. That’s her.” 

“No shit.” Weevil shakes his head in disbelief.

“You know her?” Cassidy asks. He and Dick both have their eyes closed, enjoying their pampering. 

“Yeah. I see her at church every Sunday. Her and her cousin never miss.” 

The weight of Weevil’s stare, the inflection he puts on the words makes Logan suspicious. _What’s he missing?_ “Who’s her cousin?”

“Molly Fitzpatrick.”

 _Well, fuck_. 

* * *

 

**VERONICA**

Jackie pulls her dad’s Hummer into her driveway and parks alongside Veronica’s LeBaron and Mac’s VW Beetle. She presses the button to open the garage door and hops out while Veronica tries not to gawk at the stately home. 

“Ladies, you were both worthy adversaries,” Mac crows as she steps out of the car, a smear of orange paint still lingering on her cheek.  “Too bad neither of you are as good as me.”

“Shouldn’t, like, non-violence be part of being vegan?” Veronica grumbles. 

“I can give up bacon but I could never agree to that.”

“Maybe it was beginner’s luck?” Jackie offers as they head inside her house. The Cook estate is large, sprawling, and ostentatious. Her dad is also out of town, making it the perfect location for a girls night. 

“Maybe. After being thoroughly trounced in paintball, though, I’m gonna need some sustenance. And maybe ice cream.”

“Veronica.” Mac’s tone is dry as they walk into Jackie’s kitchen and perch at the counter barstools. “You would need sustenance if you had won.”

She giggles, conceding the point. “Okay. How about Jackie and I spring for pizza—even a vegan one—since you won?”

“Sounds great.”

After ordering pizza, the girls make themselves at home in the living room, turning on ‘Clueless’ and sprawling across the large, grey sectional couch.  

Jackie sighs. “I always wanted Cher’s closet so bad.”

“I always wanted Paul Rudd so bad,” Mac confesses with a giggle.

Once dinner arrives, they eat and continue their running commentary on the movie. Veronica feels a bittersweet pang as Jackie gets into Cher’s love of make-overs and tells them a story about one of her friends in New York. It reminds her of Lilly and she wonders what she’d be doing if her best friend was still alive.

Lilly would probably be at Vassar, like she always wanted—as far away from Celeste as possible, she had said. Would they still talk? How would Lilly feel about Veronica and Logan? She doesn’t know but she hopes her friend would have approved. It’s been two years now and it’s gotten easier to think about her in these moments, to let herself miss Lilly and wonder but not get pulled under by her grief. And if Lilly was still alive, would Veronica be friends with Mac and Jackie? It’s hard to say. She shakes off her introspection and focuses on the movie.

Cher, Dionne, and Tai are having lunch together at the mall and talking about sex. Mac suddenly sits up, a frown crossing her face.

“Mac? Are you okay?”

She swallows and keeps her gaze fixed on her toes. 

“Well...Di mentions how her man is satisfied even though technically she’s still a virgin...it would be normal for your boyfriend to want to do those...things?”

_That’s unexpected._

“Um,” Veronica tries to stall for time. _Good luck fielding this one_.

 _“_ Wait, what about...I thought...election night…?” Jackie is clearly trying to find a tactful way to phrase her inquiry. 

Mac shakes her head. “Nothing happened. Less than nothing. And now...we’re just like friends who hold hands. It’s not normal, is it?”

“Well, I don’t know if ‘normal’ is the right word…” Veronica speaks slowly, thinking through her response carefully. 

“Are you and Logan…?”

Veronica is sure she’s blushing. “Mmmhmm.”

“And how long did you wait before…?”

“Well…” Veronica is not ready to share everything that happened after the bus crash. “We dated over the summer but it wasn’t until more recently things...crossed that line.”

This seems to make Mac feel marginally better. Some of the weight lifts from her shoulders. 

“How long have you and Cassidy been dating?” Jackie asks. 

“About two months, I guess?”

“Oh, that’s not very long at all,” Jackie rushes to reassure her. “Certainly not long enough for you to feel bad about not being ready yet. Not that you should ever feel bad about that.”

Mac suddenly looks miserable again and curls into a ball, burying her face in her knees. 

“It’s not me,” she mumbles into her legs. “It’s Cassidy.”

Veronica locks eyes with Jackie and puts her palm on Mac’s shoulder. 

“What do you mean?”

“After two months, he should have made a move by now, right?”

“Well…” She’s not exactly the expert on normal teenage boy behavior, and she doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. 

Mac takes her silence as confirmation that Cassidy’s behavior is atypical and begins to panic. 

“Am I doing something wrong? Am I not sexy?”

“No! Mac, what sort of things have you...done?”

“Um, kisses, but never, like, tongue. More like a quick peck. There should definitely be some groping by now, no?”

“Hmm.” _Definitely not like Logan_. “Well, Cassidy is a little more shy, and be honest, Mac, would you really want him speeding towards sex?” 

“Yeah,” Jackie adds. “It’s important to go at a pace that fits you both and feels right. You don’t have to do what everyone else is doing.”

“But what if….” Mac trails off. 

“If something’s bothering you, Mac, you need to talk to him about it. I know it sounds horrible but, trust me. There were a lot of issues in my relationship with Logan that I could have solved by talking to him.” 

 _Oh the irony, Veronica, of_ you _encouraging open communication._

Mac’s mood visibly shifts as she smirks at Veronica. “I’m glad you’ve finally realized it.”

Veronica rolls her eyes.

“Veronica’s right.” Jackie is earnest. “Sex is a big deal. If you can’t talk about it, you’re not ready to do it. Not that I’m saying you should or that should be your goal—” She holds up her hands in warning. “But you have to start somewhere. And asking him if everything is okay between you is probably a good start.”

Sighing, Mac nods. “That makes sense. Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime.” Veronica smiles and thinks again of Lilly. Mac and Jackie aren’t the same as Lilly—no one ever could be. But that doesn’t mean they can’t be awesome friends. 

As she’s settling back into Cher and Josh, her phone begins to belt out “Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man.”

“Sorry, Logan keeps changing my ringtones—”

_He was supposed to fix that!_

Before she can hop up and get her purse from the kitchen, Jackie throws a pillow at her head. 

“No boys allowed! He can survive one night without you!”

Veronica laughs and tosses the pillow back, trying to ignore her phone. The song’s description of Logan is not lost on her. _He definitely takes his time and does everything right._ Their previous conversation and the song lyrics leave her blushing and she hopes the girls don’t notice. 

After the third ring, Jackie jumps up from the couch, huffing, and grabs it from the kitchen. 

“Logan! It’s girls night! Leave her alone!” She chastises as she answers Veronica’s phone. 

But she pauses for a second, listening, and then gives it to Veronica. 

“He says it’s important.” 

Veronica takes her phone and moves into the kitchen. 

“Pumpkins, what’s going on? Is that N’Sync I hear?” She’s pretty sure she can make out Dick singing “Bye Bye Bye” in the background. And that’s definitely Wallace yelling, “You turn left after, not right.” 

“What are you guys doing over there?” Her voice drops to a seductive whisper. “Did you miss me?” 

Logan huffs a laugh. “Always. But that’s not why I called.”

After listening to what he has to say, Veronica hangs up and rushes back to the living room, energized at the prospect of another lead to track down. 

“Do either of you know a freshman named Hannah Griffith?”

Mac glances up from the movie. “I think I did some computer work for her during my programming class the other day.”

“Great.” Veronica’s eyes gleam. “We need to make her our new best friend.”

“A freshman? Why?” Jackie’s tone conveys her disdain for underclassmen. 

“Weevil recognized her name. It’s her dad who’s claiming he saw Logan murder Felix on the bridge. It’s a lie. I need to get into her house and snoop around.”

Mac giggles. “Good. I was worried you were going to say a normal girl thing, like you wanted to borrow her Uggs or something.”

“Me?” Veronica points at her chest. “Act like a normal girl? Not anymore.”


	9. Invisible Threads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, we are posting this update because we had it queued up and ready to go. After this chapter we're taking a little break from writing. While the story is finished, it needs editing and we need the time to regroup before attempting to get back into the head space of our characters. We love you, we love LoVe, and we'll be back soon. Stay safe out there. - MB and CG

 

* * *

 “You’ve reached Logan Echolls with today’s inspirational greeting. ‘Invisible threads are the strongest ties.’ Friedrich Nietzsche.”

* * *

**VERONICA**

“So, wait, what can you have for breakfast?”

Mac perches at one of counter bar stools in the Cook kitchen while Jackie and Veronica raid the fridge. 

“Oh, I usually just have fruit. Or like a smoothie. It’s no big deal,” Mac hurries to explain. “You and Veronica can have whatever you want. Don’t change things on my account.”

Jackie shrugs and looks at Veronica. “I can’t cook. There’s cereal and pop tarts.” 

Laughing, Veronica helps herself and begins pulling out ingredients. “How about some scrambled eggs, too?”

“Sounds excellent, thanks.”

Jackie finds a skillet and a spatula while Veronica cracks the eggs and mixes them, adding milk, salt, and pepper. Once the stovetop is warm, she lets the eggs simmer, keeping an eye on them.

It’s noisy as Jackie turns on the blender, making a fruit smoothie and pouring it into three glasses. Mac takes a sip.

“This is really delicious. Thanks, Jackie.”

“You’re welcome. Mac…” Jackie pauses, obviously weighing her words. “I know we don’t know each other super well yet, and I don’t want to pry...but did you think any more about what we talked about last night? With Cassidy?”

Mac stares into the pink depths of her smoothie. “You mean about talking to him...about sex?”

“Well, yeah. Or just talking to him about your relationship in general.”

Nodding, Mac takes a deep breath. “I know Cassidy hasn’t dated much, and neither have I. It’s okay if we figure out things together but we can’t do that if I’m too scared to talk to him. Any advice on how to broach that topic?”

“Men are fragile,” Jackie advises. “Way more so than you’d think.”

“It’s totally true. They are delicate flowers.” Veronica snorts a laugh.

“Exactly.” Jackie smiles at her and takes a sip of her smoothie while Veronica plates the eggs and adds cheese. 

“Enough about me. What about you, Jackie?” Mac changes the subject. “Is there a special boy you’re taking to the Fall Festival next week?”

Jackie is disdainful. “Boy? Oh, no, he’d have to be a _man_ to be special to me. But no, there’s not. What’s the big deal with the Fall Festival?”

“Oh, it’s just like a carnival the school hosts,” Veronica explains, setting a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Jackie at the counter. “Clubs take different booths to raise money and there’s games and food. It’s a Neptune tradition. You must come.”

“Are you guys going with your boyfriends? Because I’m not feeling like being the fifth wheel.”

“Nah, it’s more of a group thing. I bet Wallace and Dick will tag along. It’ll be fun.”

“Cassidy and I have a bet going about who can bob for the most apples.” Mac is smug. “I’m the running champ in my family; he doesn’t stand a chance. You have to be there to see my triumph.”

“Bobbing for apples? How wholesome.”

“You have no idea.” Veronica smiles at her and takes a bite of her eggs.  

“So Veronica.” Jackie turns to her with a mischievous smile. “Mac dished. Now it’s your turn.”

“What? I think not. Logan and I have no problems when it comes to sex.” She gives them a wicked grin. “But I don’t kiss and tell.”

“C’mon! This is a sleepover. There must be girl talk,” Jackie urges.

“Nope. I don’t do girl talk, either. Besides, things are really good between me and Logan. Not just sex, but things in general. There’s just nothing to talk about.”

“Okay, we don’t have to talk about sex. He seems pretty head-over-heels for you, girl. What’s going on there?”

“What do you mean, what’s going on?” Veronica raises a sarcastic brow. “You know he and I are dating, right?” 

“Duh.” Jackie rolls her eyes. “I mean, how do you feel about him?”

“Obviously I like him. That’s why I’m dating him.”

“Veronica.” Jackie’s exasperation fills her tone. “It’s pretty serious, right? Are you in love with him?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Hadn’t thought about it? Wow, you really don’t do girl talk.”

Taking a deep breath, Veronica gives her a rueful shrug. “I tried to warn you.”

“I give up.” Jackie rolls her eyes and stands, clearing away their plates. She puts them in the dishwasher and opens the utensil drawer to put away an unused wooden spoon. 

“Sometimes living with just my dad is the worst.” She gestures at the open drawer in exasperation. It’s full of kitchen tools—spoons and spatulas, but also papers. “Do you have this problem, Veronica?”

Veronica moves across the kitchen to see what Jackie is talking about. “Yeah, mistaking the junk drawer for the utensil drawer is pretty normal.”

Jackie starts sorting through the papers, mostly take-out menus, but gasping, holds up a photograph. 

“Guys, look at this!” She drops the menus and waves the glossy four by six picture. “He’s been so closed-mouthed about his love life, but here is hard proof that my dad is dating someone.”

Veronica can’t seem to curb her curiosity. She examines the photo of Terrence Cook planting a kiss on the cheek of a pretty, young black woman. 

“Was.” Veronica clears her throat. “Was dating someone. That’s Ms. Dumas. She was the journalism teacher until…”

Mac’s eyes are wide. “She was killed in the bus crash.”

Woodenly, Jackie sinks down onto the stool next to Mac. “He seemed so affected by the crash...I thought it was just because it was my school...we’ve just recently reconnected and...I wonder why he didn’t say anything.”

Veronica makes a face. “That’s another thing that’s hard about living with a single father. No one wants to think about their dad dating.”

Another thought occurs to her. “Maybe he didn’t tell you because Ms. Dumas worked at Neptune. Did I tell you that last year my dad dated Ms. James, the guidance counselor?”

“Becky?” Mac is incredulous. “Ugh.”

“Yeah. She tried to make us dinner. It was awful. I much prefer Mrs. Fennel.”

Jackie strokes her fingertips over her dad’s smiling face in the picture. “Do you think I should say something to him?”

Mac’s gentle tone softens her words. “Jackie, you just got done encouraging us to communicate better in our relationships. So maybe that applies here, too?”

“I do give good advice, don’t I?” Jackie teases. “Thanks, Mac.”

“That’s not exactly what I was saying...but sure.” Mac clears her throat. “And while we’re on the subject of thank-yous...I don’t really do girly things like sleepovers. Or even...have friends who are girls. So thank you for making this a not-horrible experience.”

Veronica thinks back to her musings about Lilly. _Wallace is the best, but girlfriends should not be discounted_. 

“Agreed.”

Jackie’s eyes light up. “Does this mean I can give you makeovers?”

“Absolutely not.” Veronica keeps her tone firm. “You’ve officially watched too much Clueless.”

“Paint our nails?” Jackie suggests.

Veronica glances at Mac, who shrugs. 

“I think we could be persuaded.”

* * *

**** **LOGAN**

Logan reaches for Veronica’s hand, and pulls her out of the path of another sticky, unattended child zooming around the Fall Festival. _Aren’t they supposed to be on leashes or something?_ He raises Veronica’s fingers to his lips, then examines the deep blue color of her nails. 

“What do you call this?”

“Um, it’s called “Bobbing for Baubles” or something,” she mumbles.

His lips twitch. 

“What? It was Jackie’s. And we didn’t have anything else to do. And I like it. And… shut up.” A flush stains her cheeks. 

“You’re being a girl!” He accuses.

She glares at him and he squeezes her hand so she knows he’s joking.

Logan is not entirely sure if her previous isolation was a result of their peers shunning her, or if she pushed them away before they could. Either way, _I’m happy for you_ seems a bit rich coming from the reformed psychotic jackass. She prefers to gloss these things over anyway. 

Practically on cue, she exaggerates a wink. 

“You love it when I’m a girl.” Catching sight of someone behind him she adds, “And you’re going to love this. Is that Hannah Griffith behind you?” 

Turning, he observes the peppy blonde and replies nonchalantly, “I'm not sure.” 

“Logan, please. You’re telling me you don’t have every girl at Neptune High memorized?”

 _Not every girl._ “Well, I—“

“And you circle the hot blondes in our yearbook every year. I’ve seen you do it.” 

 _Hannah wasn’t even in their yearbook. And anyway…_ “That was before—“

“I saw you and Dick oogling girls at Freshman orientation this year. ” 

“Have I told you my eyes adore you?” He tries.

“Logan.” 

He visually sweeps Veronica for piano wire, then gives up. “Yeah, that’s her.” 

“Great.” She swings their joined hands as she casually strolls them towards Hannah, bumping into her just as they pass. 

“Oh my gosh! Hannah, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Um, I’m fine.” 

“I’m so clumsy!” Veronica giggles and Logan suppresses a grimace. He hates Amber. If he wanted to date a wide-eyed, innocuous blonde he’d date Hannah. 

Veronica bubbles, “So, I’m doing an article for the student paper and I hear the pep squad has some exciting things coming up!” 

“We do?” Hannah seems hesitant in the face of Veronica’s forceful cheer. 

The beauty of Veronica’s performance is that while the general population has _heard_ of her badassery, with her small stature and delicate features no one is inclined to _believe_ it. They look at her and see what she wants them to see. Even when they know she’s outsmarting them, they’re still skeptical. Logan can appreciate it, even if he’s not a fan of the current alter ego. 

“Amber” may be dumb as rocks, but she does her research. “Of course you do, Hannah! Aren’t you planning a school spirit sale to raise money for the San Diego Parrot Sanctuary?” 

Predictably, Hannah perks up. “Oh, yeah! We’re going to set up a table at school next week with all sorts of Pirate paraphernalia. Can I put you down for button?” 

 _What the fuck are they going to do with a button?_ “What the f—“

Veronica elbows him. Hard. 

“I’d love a button!” She squeals. 

“What about you, Logan?” Hannah asks, looking up at him through her lashes. “Would you like a button?”

The familiarity is definitely a tactical error _,_ especially since he’s never even spoke to the girl before. Maybe she circles hot brunettes in the yearbook. She’d do better to keep track of the possessive blondes. 

“He’s good.” Veronica answers for him through gritted teeth. 

“I’m good.” He agrees solemnly. 

“So. Hannah. Congratulations on being the only freshman to make pep squad this year!”

“Oh, thank you! I’m re—”

“I bet they stuck you with making the buttons.” 

“They did. But I don’t mind. I’m just grateful to—”

“You know, they did the same thing to me Freshman year!” Veronica overrides brightly. “I learned a few tricks for getting them done faster. Do you need any help?” 

“Um, sure. That would be great. What about you, Logan? Can you help?”

He moves Veronica in front of him and wraps his arms around her waist. He makes the move look intimate, casual. But really he’s holding her back. “No, Veronica’s got way more pep than I do.” 

“Anything for the parrots.” Veronica bites out, then takes a breath. “Why don’t you come over to my house tomorrow night?” 

“Um, sure, I’d—” 

“Oh, shoot!” Veronica snaps her fingers. “My dad is going to be away tomorrow night. And I’m sure your parents wouldn’t want you to come over if there was no supervision.” 

“Why don’t you come over to my place? My dad’ll be home.” Hannah offers.

“Sounds great! See you then!” 

Veronica loops her arm through Logan’s and pulls him away. He looks over his shoulder to see Hannah standing in place looking a little dazed. 

He removes Veronica’s hand and hooks his arm over her shoulder. “That was you being a girl?”

“It’s a work in progress.” 

He hugs her closer. “Come on, Dumpling. I’ll win you a bear.” 

* * *

**VERONICA**

Veronica pastes a smile on her face, hefts her tote bag up on her shoulder, and rings the doorbell of the Griffith residence. The house is imposing, with frosted glass doors and modern lines. Upscale and flashy, but not in the same league as the Kane, Casablancas, or Echolls estates. 

After a beat, Hannah answers. She looks hesitant and slightly...scared? _Is your reputation that bad these days, Veronica?_

She holds open her tote bag. “Look what I have!” 

Hannah peers blankly at the contraption and opens the door wider. Veronica lets herself in. 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s a button machine! I convinced my dad to buy it a few elections ago but it made my pep squad days so much easier.”

Hannah shrugs, still wary. “Sounds cool. How did you know I was even on pep squad? You don’t seem…” She trails off. 

“Like the peppy type? Well, I used to be. Would you believe I just can’t subject anyone to button torture? It wrecks havoc on the nails.”

Veronica holds her dark blue manicure out for inspection and Hannah giggles. “Okay, then. What do we need?”

“Um, kitchen table? And maybe some snacks?”

If she’s going to help out the pep squad, she really does deserve sustenance. 

Veronica gets the button making-machine all set up on the table and gets out her circle punch, too, demonstrating how it works for Hannah. 

“See? Instead of cutting the circles by hand, you can just punch them out. And then you put all the pieces in and pull the lever!”

Veronica pretends to be amazed by the parrot-themed button she just made and grabs a handful of popcorn, tossing a kernel into her mouth. 

“Wow, that _is_ really fast! Awesome!” 

She’s pretty sure Hannah’s amazement is not fake. Was she this bad when she was a freshman? _God, let's hope not_.

“So is your dad gone a lot?” Hannah asks, looking up from the green and yellow button she just made. “You mentioned yesterday that he’s out of town.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess. I’ve kinda gotten used to it, it’s no big deal anymore.” Veronica shrugs. 

“So is your mom—”

“Not in the picture,” Veronica cuts her off sharply. Small talk is one thing but she doesn’t talk about her mom with anyone, let alone this girl she barely knows. 

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Hannah’s subdued, staring at the button in her hands. “My dad was gone all summer but at least I had my mom.”

“Hannah, who’s your friend?” Dr. Griffith leans against the kitchen door frame, watching them. 

Veronica is grateful for the interruption. After her ‘consultation’ with Dr. Griffith last week, she’s not sure how he’s going to play this. He stressed confidentiality at his office, of course, but recognition dawns in his eyes now as he gazes at her. 

“Oh, hi. I’m—Veronica.” Swallowing her popcorn, she holds out her hand to shake his as he walks over to them and fights off embarrassment. _You don’t actually want plastic surgery,_ she reminds herself. A little awkwardness is worth it. _whatever it takes to clear Logan’s name._

“I’m Dr. Griffith, Hannah’s dad. What are you girls up to?”

“Veronica offered to help me with a pep squad project, Dad.”

“Better her than me.” He laughs ruefully. “I’ll be in the basement if you girls need anything. It was nice to meet you, Veronica.”

“You, too, Dr. Griffith.” She gives him her peppiest smile as he leaves the room. 

“So you’re dating Logan Echolls, right?”

Veronica grits her teeth and focuses on pulling the button maker lever—perhaps with more force than is strictly necessary. 

 _Apparaty it’s gossip hour._ _What is it with the girl talk lately?_

“Mmmhmmm.”

“What’s he like?”

 _Mine_. 

Out loud she says, “Oh, he’s very devoted. Faithful to a fault.”

Hannah sighs. “He’s so cute.”

“Yeah, too bad he doesn’t have a younger brother.” Veronica clears her throat. “I don’t know a lot of freshmen. Any boys in your own grade that you like?”

Hannah must get the hint. “Oh, no, not really.”

“That’s okay. I kind of wish I hadn’t dated anyone my freshman year. I was way too young, you know?”

Hannah looks at her like she’s crazy and Veronica doesn’t believe the lie, either, but it was worth a shot. 

“So, do you like being on pep squad?”

Expounding on the wonders of cheerleading and how cute she looks in her uniform takes Hannah some time but Veronica tunes her out and mutters encouraging noises during the pauses. Finally, after there’s an impressive stack of buttons in front of her, Veronica asks to use the bathroom. 

“Oh, sure. It’s right through there.” Hannah points down a hallway and Veronica gives an internal sigh of relief. 

She pokes around in the bathroom but she’s not surprised when she doesn’t find anything—it’s a downstairs guest space, after all. Quietly, she eases the door back open, closes it, and sneaks up the floating staircase. 

After a quick check to assure herself that Tom Griffith isn’t in his bedroom, Veronica lets herself into his bathroom. Every surface is reflective—mirrored medicine cabinet, stainless steel countertops, floating basin sink, and shiny futuristic faucet. It’s overwhelming but she forces herself to focus on the task at hand and starts with the medicine cabinet. 

At a glance, it contains the standard items—razor, shaving cream, over the counter painkillers, mouthwash, toothbrush and toothpaste, aftershave, Q-tips, and a box of Band-Aids. No prescription bottles or immediate red flags…no real place to hide much of anything. She’s not really sure what she’s looking for but general snooping is always a good place to start. 

Curious, Veronica peeks inside the box of bandages... and sees something that doesn’t belong. Dumping it out, a tiny plastic bag full of white powder spills onto the counter. _Bingo_. 

Pulse racing at her find, she pulls her phone out of her back pocket and snaps some pictures. It would be even better if she could get some sort of proof that the cocaine belongs to Dr. Griffith but for now, this will have to do. 

She wishes she could call Logan but she knows she needs to keep silent. Sliding her phone open, she shoots off a text to him. 

**V: Definitely found proof that connects the good doctor to the FitzPs**

It’s not long before she gets a response back. 

**L: Besides being in-laws? What is it? Are you okay?**

**V: I’m fine. Found cocaine.**

**L: GET OUT OF THERE.**

As she’s formulating her exit strategy, her phone buzzes again. 

**L: Wait, I’m confused. How does that tie Dr G to the FPs?**

**V: When Dad was Sheriff he busted them about once a month for dealing coke. Never stuck but he always told me to stay away.**

**L: Gotcha. Now leave and come to my place to reassure me that u r okay.**

**V: Stop texting me so I can go make my excuses to Hannah! I’ll call u soon.**

Putting the Band-Aids back exactly where she found them, Veronica sneaks out of the bathroom and down the stairs. Pausing outside the guest bathroom door, she jumps at the voice behind her. 

“Can I help you, Veronica?”

Heart pounding, she spins to see Dr. Griffith behind her. 

“Oh, no, Dr. Griffith! You startled me.” His gaze is predatory and she wishes she had taken Logan’s advice sooner to get out. “I was just finishing up with Hannah, I should really be going home. My dad worries, you know.”

“Mmm. I think that’s a common dad thing.” He gives her a closed-mouthed smile. “I hope you’ve thought more about what I said in my office the other day. You really are a lovely girl, you don’t need any cosmetic enhancement. I hope you didn’t befriend Hannah just to try to change my mind.”

_You don’t know the half of it._

Instead, she goes with, “No, I had no idea she was your daughter.” _That’s true. At the time, you didn’t know she existed._

“Well, have a good night.”

“You, too.” 

Feeling his eyes on her back, she flees to the kitchen. 

“Hannah, this has been great but my dad just called, he got back into town early. I’ve gotta go.” Veronica gathers up her button-making materials and begins sweeping things off the table into her tote bag. 

Hannah looks up, startled. “Oh, um, okay. Uh, thanks. I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Veronica shoves her button machine into her bag and flashes a tight smile. “Tootles!”

Without a backward glance, she hustles through the house and out the front door, not breathing deeply until she reaches the safety of her car. 

Digging her phone out of her pocket, she pushes 2 and waits until she hears Logan’s tense voice over the line. 

“Hey, are you out of there?” 

“Yep.” She puts the key in the ignition and starts the car. “Pulling out of the driveway as we speak. It’s not far.”

“Good. Get over to my place, now.”

“God, you’re a bossy pest.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that before.” The tension leaves his voice, replaced with a teasing tone of seduction. “I think it turns you on. In fact, I think I’m gonna have to do a full-body inspection when you get here. Maybe boss you around some more. Unless it’s your turn to give the orders this time?

Veronica pulls into the Neptune Grand parking garage and exits her LeBarron. “Well, I have good news for you, Peaches. My dad had to go up to Fresno for something. I’m yours all night.”

She takes the elevator straight to Logan’s floor. 

“Mmm, I can work with that.”

The deep timbre of his voice rumbles in her ear and sends a jolt straight to her groin. At her knock, he opens the door and leans against it, shirtless, his elbow propped up on the frame, showcasing his bicep muscles. _Yum._

Gulping, she pushes past him, trying to play it cool. “You should really put on a shirt to answer the door, you know.”

“I thought I’d save you some time.” Logan grabs her around the waist and pulls her to him, pressing his lips to hers fervently. She runs her fingers over his chest, not bothering to deny his words, because that would involve using her mouth for something other than kissing him and really, it’s just not worth it. 

He shuts the door behind her, spinning them until she’s up against the wall, his body flush with hers, every part. He bends down, aligning them so his hard length presses into her and it feels so good. She rubs herself on him and hitches her leg up, trying to climb him and get more friction. 

Logan obliges and cups her ass, lifting her up so she can wrap her legs around his waist, bringing herself even closer to him. She’s thankful she wore her peppiest little plaid skirt today. His tongue delves into her mouth, twisting with hers, and she tangles her hands into his hair. 

His mouth breaks away from hers, moving to suck lightly on her neck, sending even more heat into her core. She’s so wet and ready for him. 

“Logan,” she pants. “Bed. Now.”

He lets go of her legs, sliding her down his body to set her feet back on the floor. A smirk spreads across his face. 

“No need. No one else is here.”

“Yeah, but…” she trails off as Logan kneels on the ground in front of her, his hands sliding up her bare legs. She gasps as he pulls her underwear down to her ankles and trails a path up her thighs with his tongue. 

“Oh my god,” Veronica moans, anchoring her hands on his shoulders and using the wall for support so she doesn’t fall. 

He tugs one of her legs over his shoulder and keeps her propped up on the wall, then tortures her, tracing her swollen flesh with feathery licks and darting his tongue into her center. Lightening jolts through her body when he finally laps at her clit and she cries out, threading her fingers through his hair. He is both gentle and firm, and she’s never wanted anything as much as she wants him in that moment. 

 He keeps licking and licking, like he needs this as much as she does. It shouldn’t be possible for her to become any more turned on than she already is but desire floods her body, white hot, leaving her trembling. Her moans echo loudly in the entryway but she’s not embarrassed by the noise. She’s not sure she could stop the sound from coming out of her mouth anyway, and it seems to encourage Logan. 

 “You taste so good,” he mumbles into her thigh and licks her even more furiously. She digs her fingers into his shoulders as her pleasure builds...higher...faster...more...oh, god, and then peaks. Letting go and letting Logan push her over the edge. Her orgasm overtakes her, rolls through her body in waves. The muscle spasms leave her slumped sideways, holding on desperately to Logan, hoping the leg she’s balanced on doesn't give out. 

 His tongue turns gentle, lapping her flesh softly as she comes back down from the high. 

 “I think...you’re gonna have to carry me to your bed.” Veronica’s voice is breathy as she takes in her predicament. “I’m probably going to fall over.”

 If he hadn’t just given her an earth-shattering orgasm, his smirk as he stands would be insufferable. As it is, though, she can’t deny his skills and can’t remember why she’d want to. Just the opposite, actually—Veronica plans to encourage him to do that again, and frequently. 

 Keeping her upright against the wall, Logan wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Smug and obviously pleased with himself, he scoops her up effortlessly and heads through the living space to his bedroom. 

 “So you liked that, did you?” His tone is conversational, as if he’s asking about the weather or a homework assignment. 

 “Go put me on your bed and I’ll show you just how much,” Veronica growls at him. 

 “If you insist, Bobcat.”

* * *

**LOGAN**

Pounding on the door rouses Logan from his post-orgasmic doze. He’s wrapped around Veronica, her back to his front, and his fondest wish is to go back to sleep. But the knocking continues. _It better not be Dick, pissed that he missed their Call of Duty date._

“Don’t move.” He presses a kiss to Veronica’s shoulder and untangles his limbs from hers. Eyes closed, she makes a contented hum and snuggles under the red sheets. 

Foregoing the boxer briefs, he pulls on his jeans and carefully zips them on his way to the door. A heavy thud against the wood, followed by abrupt silence startles Logan, and he rushes the rest of the way.

When he swings the door open, Weevil tumbles inside. He must have been leaning against it, heavily.  

Logan takes in Weevil’s battered face and torn clothing. 

_This is “recon only?”_

 He calls to the bedroom, “Sweetums, I found something. I think it belongs to us.” 

“Very funny, Pretty Boy.” Weevil croaks, voice grittier than usual. 

 “Come on, man.” Logan leans down and hauls  him up. 

 Whatever happened, the bruised biker will heal quickly enough. Something tells him that, like himself, Weevil is no stranger to injuries. But the wounded pride will take some time. Logan maintains his silence as he helps Weevil adjust to a comfortable position on the couch. 

 Veronica appears in the bedroom doorway and gives Weevil a long study, then turns to Logan. “In the bathroom?”

 “Under the sink,” he confirms, voice soft.

 It feels good, to be with someone who understands him so well. Even if what she understands is that he uses a first aid kit and pain killers as a security blanket. He’s always fully stocked, and fastidious about replacing anything he uses. He’s even started keeping supplies in the Xterra since the PCHers attacked him on the beach. 

Logan busies himself, getting small bottles of water for everyone. He hesitates, then judiciously adds whiskey and tumblers to his cache. 

 Veronica returns, laden with towels, washcloths, an extremely thorough first aid kit, and a sweatshirt for Logan. _Ah, possessive blondes._ He quickly tugs it over his head. 

 Logan kneels next to Weevil and lifts his shirt to check for broken bones, mindful of the shallow gashes littering his body. _Someone must have been wearing a ring._ Veronica wets a washcloth with one of the water bottles and joins him at Weevi’s side, gently cleaning the cuts on his face. 

 Logan forcibly stamps down his brief surge of jealousy. He knows she’s not interested in Weevil. He’s just not used to her showing her softer side to anyone that’s not in their core group. But it looks like somewhere along the way Weevil edged past the “convenient ally” title they both claim, and is now a friend. 

 “Nothing broken,” Logan determines. He tilts his head in consideration. “Do we need to take off your pants?”

 “Uh, no.” Weevil nudges Veronica’s hands off his skull, where she’d presumably been checking for injuries. “I’m good. I just needed a place off the PCHer grid to regroup. But...uh...thank you.” He gestures to encompass all the supplies on the living room table. 

  _It’s a kinder, gentler Weevil. He must have gotten hit in the head._ Logan grins. “Why, Weevil, are we friends?” 

 “Don’t get excited, Pretty Boy, we’re associates at best.” 

 Veronica rolls her eyes, and sits back on her heels. “I’m pretty sure you guys are dating.” She focuses in on Weevil. “Tell us what happened. You promised Logan you’d play it our way.” 

 Weevil struggles up into a seated position, and pours himself two fingers of Loch Nevin. “I overheard some of my crew talking about a job I didn’t know anything about.” 

 “What was the job?” Veronica asks, then draws her brows when Weevil presses his lips together and looks to Logan.

 She waits a second longer than Logan thought she would, then presses. “Do I have to tip you over?” 

 Out of view, Logan pinches her leg. The man probably has loose bone fragments floating around his orbital socket. 

 Weevil pours another glass, and pushes it towards Logan. 

 Logan glances from it to Weevils face and dread curls in his belly. _This is going to be bad._ Veronica’s fingers lace with his, and he gives them a grateful squeeze.

 “The guys snuck into the Sheriff’s office and stole the tapes of Lilly and,” he glances at Logan, hesitant, “your dad. Outta the evidence room.”  
  
Veronica’s hand jerks in his as Logan’s mind stutters to a stop. With everything that’s been going on he hasn’t thought of his dad and Lilly in weeks. 

 “I know I said I’d play it your way, but when I figured out what they were going to do, I tried to stop them.” Weevil gestures at his injuries, “but it wasn’t exactly a fair fight.”

 “Why would…” Logan swallows. “Do you think they plan to sell them?”

  _A scoop like that would be worth millions._

 Weevil shrugs. “That’s my guess, but I wasn’t exactly in the position to ask questions.”

 “Weevil said it was a job, so somebody hired them.” Veronica’s eyes bore into Weevils. “Who do you guys usually work for?”

  _How much do biker gangs go for these days anyway?_

 “When I was in charge? No one.” Weevil’s jaw clenches. “But looks like I’m not in charge anymore. The boys take orders from Thumper now.” 

 Something about the set of Weevil’s body alerts Logan. “What else?”

 “Look, I’m not sure about anything.” 

 Veronica looks back and forth between them, shifts closer to Logan. He slips his hand out of hers to put his arm around her waist. 

 “Just tell us.” Veronica's voice is just shy of demanding and Logan has the inappropriate urge to scoop her up and take her back to bed. He strokes her hip with his thumb. 

 With obvious reluctance, Weevil admits, “Thumper’s been spending an awful lotta time in the River Stix.” 

  _Fitzpatricks._ Logan raises a tumbler to his lips, hoping the whiskey will clear the lump in his throat. He’s been hearing that name a lot lately. 

 Veronica pats his thigh gently, but her tone is hard. “We’re going to figure it out.” 

 The three lapse into silence. Turning to Weevil, Logan offers, “You’re welcome to stay. Dick’s moved out and I have the room.”

 “Nah, man. That’s—“

 “You’re staying.” 

 Both men stare at Veronica. 

 “You’re staying until we figure out who’s taking orders from who, why they’re doing it, and what the fuck is actually going on here.” 

 Logan blinks at her. She must be hitting her limit on intrigue. She almost never curses.

 “I can’t stay here with Richie Ri—.” 

 “Why?” She demands. “Who are you trying to impress? Who even cares anymore?” 

 Veronica reaches for Logan’s glass, takes a dainty sip before handing it back, visibly calming herself. “Look. We know the Fitzpatricks had something to do with the witness on the bridge. The Molly and Hannah connection can’t be a coincidence.” 

 “About that,” Weevil clears his throat. “I’m pretty sure Thumper killed Felix.” 

 While Veronica sputters, Logan downs what’s left in his glass and then opens a water bottle. The way this night is going, if he consumes anymore alcohol he’ll just end up climbing into the bottle. He gets up and sits on the couch next to Weevil, and pulls Veronica onto his lap. The weight of her eases the anxiety building inside. 

 Looking calmer herself, Veronica pins Weevil with a stare. “You’re staying here. You two are going to look out for each other until I say different.”

 Weevil sighs. “Fine, Blondie. Have it your way. I’ll stay tonight and get my things from home tomorrow.” 

 “And you’re taking Logan with you while I’m at work.”

 “And I’m taking Pretty Boy with me,” Weevil parrots.

 Suspicious, Logan tugs at Veronica’s hair for her attention. “Did you just hire me a bodyguard?” 

 She leans back against him. “Well, I’m not paying him. So technically, no.” 

 God knows why, but he hardens underneath her

 Weevil looks between them. “As fun as this has been,” he heaves himself off the cushions, wincing slightly. “Mind if I....” He points to the bottle on the table. 

 Logan nods. “Help yourself. Same room Dick was in last time you were here.”

 Veronica twists around, locking eyes with Logan. “Night, Weevil,” Veronica sings. The second Weevil’s door clicks, she crawls up Logan’s body, and wraps her arms around her his neck. “Come on, Sweet Cheeks, let’s test how sound proof these walls are.” 

  _God, he loves her._

 The next morning has Weevil and Logan arguing in The Grand parking lot while Veronica leans on the Xterra and munches on a bear claw, courtesy of room service. 

 “I’m not riding your motorcycle.” Logan insists, and narrows his eyes at Veronica’s snort. 

 She smiles around a sugary bite, and blows him a kiss.

 “Well you can’t bring that to my ‘hood, man.” Weevil grouses, gesturing at his baby. 

 “Why not?”

 “Because, look at her.” 

 Affronted, Logan glares at Weevil. “What about her?” 

 Weevil throws up his hands. “Come on! She’s going to attract every car thief in the area.”

 Veronica mutters, “Oh, you've got to be kidding me.” 

 Logan shushes her. Clearly Weevil has more distinguished taste than she does. 

 “I see your point.” He acknowledges to Weevil, who gives him a small nod. 

 Veronica pushes off the side of the SUV. “Alright. Enough of this.” 

  _Always so cute when she’s jealous._

 “You, are leaving your bike here.” She waves her bear claw in Weevil’s direction. 

 “What? Wh-“

 “Logan.” 

 His head snaps up. 

 “I’m taking your car to work.” 

 Logan’s heart stops. _Does that mean—_

 “And you’re both taking the LeBaron to Weevil’s house.” She holds out her keys and Logan tucks his hands in his pockets, steps back. 

 “Veronica, no.”

 “Be reasonable, Chica.”

 She pops the rest of her bear claw in her mouth, crosses her arms, tilts her head. And stares.

 And stares. 

 And stares. 

Weevil groans and snags the keys dangling from her fingertips, throws them to Logan. “Let’s get this over with.”  

Logan catches them, rolling his eyes. At least she didn’t flip her hair. She’d probably be the proud owner of a Harley Davidson Fat Boy. 

 Veronica grins at him and that rush of affection that’s becoming all too frequent flows through him. 

 Pulling her to him he wraps his arms around her waist, and hers automatically wind around his neck. 

 “Bossy.” He accuses. 

 She tugs him down and whispers in his ear, “Maybe later.” 

 H _e sincerely hopes that’s a promise._

 He growls at her and she laughs, brushing her lips against his once, twice. 

 “Be careful.” She says against his lips, and he pulls her tighter to him. 

 “Bye, Sugar Pie.” 

 He glances up and realizes Weevil is already across the lot leaning on the LeBaron, frowning down at his borrowed Slacker T-shirt.

 Logan gives Veronica a small kiss on the cheek, and strides towards Weevil. 

 He’s halfway there when he realizes he forgot to give her his keys. Fishing them out of his pocket, he spins just in time to see her driving the Xterra away. He knows she wouldn’t hot wire it, so she probably got a copy of the keys somehow. Just one of the little ways she shows she cares. 

 With a skip in his step, he makes his way to the LeBaron, and unlocks the doors for Weevil to get in. 

 He looks a little better today. Not quite as battered, and at least his style has improved.  

 Steering them out of the parking lot, Logan attempts to make polite conversation. 

 “So, Weevil. Is Mrs. Navarro going to be home?” 

  “No, she’s working.” Weevil slants him a look. 

  _Perhaps he picked the wrong subject matter to foster civility._

  Logan clears his throat. “That’s great.” 

 “I suppose you think you deserve a thank you.” 

 Logan furrows his brow. He half-expected to dodge a punch, not receive a thank you. 

 From his periphery he sees Weevil studying his profile. 

 “You really don’t know?” 

 “Obviously not.” 

 “After your dad fired her, your mom helped her get a job with the Enboms.” 

 He had no idea. Though the help isn’t exactly a hot topic of conversation in his circle, so why would he. But it does explain a few things. He always wondered...

 “Is that why?” 

 Unsurprisingly, he finds he doesn’t have to explain himself. He and Weevil have more in common than either of them of them would admit.

 “Your mom was decent. No way was I going to let that little punk sell footage of her suicide.” 

 “Thank you.” Logan’s voice is quiet, and he hopes the sincerity is clear. No quips, no banter. His mother deserved better in her life, and any modicum of respect afforded to her in death has his gratitude. 

 “Yeah, no problem.” Weevil shifts in the passenger seat, knee bouncing. “Make a right at the light.”

 Time to move on to more pleasant topics. 

 “So, Thumper killed Felix?” 

 “He took a little time to brag before having his boys jump me.” Weevil confirms. 

 Logan notes that Weevil has already divorced himself from the group, but doesn’t comment on it as they speed towards the ‘02.

 “And you said he’s spending time at the River Stix these days?” 

 “Yup.” Weevil doesn’t elaborate.

 “And Hannah is cousins with the Fitzpatrick’s.” 

 “Through her mom’s side.”

 Weevils succinct answers are starting to piss him off. Does he need to turn the man over and shake the answers out of him?

 “And you know this because?” He prompts.

 “Church. It’s the only place in town where the Micks and the Spics mix and no one gets punched. People talk.” 

 “Why would the Fitzpatricks protect Thumper?” 

 “The Fitzpatricks control the drug trade in Neptune. I put money on the PCHers being their way into the high school market.”

 Two whole sentences from Mr. Chatty. It’s a miracle. 

 “And the good doctor?”

 Weevil stills his bouncing leg and sits forward in his seat. “Look, man, I really don’t know. I don’t know why Hannah’s dad would lie about you.” He sighs in frustration. “Your girlfriend’s basically a superhero. Isn’t it her job to figure this stuff out?” 

 “Yeah, we’ll get right on that.” 

 Weevil points out a small house and Logan pulls up to the curb, taking in its faded yellow paint and meticulously-kept front garden. 

 “Wait here.” Weevil orders.

 Logan shrugs and reclines his seat. He lets his mind drifts to Veronica and what she’s doing right now… what _they_ could be doing right now. 

 Weevil returns quickly, interrupting a very pleasant daydream that involved Veronica and lacy lingerie, and tosses a worn duffle bag into the car. 

 He looks around then nods to Logan. “Alright, lets go.” 

 Logan follows his gaze, but doesn’t see any immediate danger. Still, he’s glad he didn’t bring the Xterra. He texts Veronica an update before he takes off.

  **L: On our way back. How’s my baby?**

 His phone pings a reply almost immediately.

  **V: I’m fine, just going through Dad’s paperwork. I’ll meet u @The Grand later. Stay safe.**

 Logan blinks. He meant the car. He never calls her baby outside of their most vulnerable moments. It’s become an unspoken rule. Usually they outdo each other with ridiculous pet names. But… she didn’t even deflect with some amusing response. She’s hearing how he feels and accepting it. No running shoes in sight. 

 “Why so happy, Pretty Boy?” Weevil asks as Logan tucks his phone away and puts the car in gear. 

 Logan’s smile widens. “Just starting to feel like everything’s gonna be okay.”

* * *

** VERONICA  
**

Veronica winces, the Xterra’s tires bumping against the curb as she parks in front of the Mars Investigations office. _Whoops_

Logan’s most prized possession drives—and parks—a little different than she’s used to. She can’t help but smile, though, thinking of him behind the wheel of her LeBaron. _Poor baby. You’ll have to console him later._

After checking the tires— _perfectly fine—_ she beeps the lock and pockets the keys that she copied. _You knew they’d come in handy._

Letting herself into the office, she spies her dad behind his desk, in the middle of a phone call. She waves at him, closes his door, and gets started on the pile of paperwork waiting for her. Just as she starts to get into her groove, her phone buzzes. It’s a text from Logan. 

**L: On our way back. How’s my baby?**

Wow, they really haven’t been apart for all that long. Although with everything going on, his overprotective streak doesn’t seem all that cloying. Just kind of...sweet. 

**V: I’m fine, just going through Dad’s paperwork. I’ll meet u @The Grand later. Stay safe.**

“Veronica…” Her dad comes out of his office into the vestibule of Mars Investigations, a note of warning in his voice. “When I was gone last night, where did you sleep?”

_Uh-oh._

She shrugs, not meeting his eyes, and occupies herself with the paperwork on her desk. Keith comes to stand in front of her. 

“I can’t decide if I think that you’re safe staying with Logan or in more danger than before.”

“Let’s go with safer and leave it at that?” She desperately hopes he’ll drop this; the awkwardness of a sex talk with her dad right now might kill her. 

“Are you two...being responsible? Using protection?” 

 _Oh, god._  

“Dad!” Will the floor actually swallow her up? Or maybe she will just spontaneously combust from embarrassment? 

When neither of those things happen and her dad continues to give her his most piercing stare, she takes a deep breath. 

 “Yes, Dad, we are.”

 Miraculously, her heart is still beating. 

 “Do you need me to make you a doctor’s appointment?”

 “No, that won’t—” She stops speaking. _Actually, it’s probably not a bad idea_. And if it will make her dad feel better and never ask her about this again, it’s totally worth it. “Yeah, that’d be good, thanks.”

She clears her throat, desperate to change the subject. She wants to ask how he knew she wasn’t at home but he probably wouldn’t tell her anyway. So she goes with, “How was Fresno?”

“Interesting.”

“Really? I thought it was, like, the most boring place on earth?”

Keith smiles, finally, and the tension dissipates. 

“Well, yes. But I had a theory I wanted to run by a friend up there.” He settles against the side of her desk, leaning in, and his eyes twinkle. She loves how excited he gets when he’s found a good lead on a case. 

“Do you remember that EOD training I did as Sheriff?” At her blank look, he elaborates. “Explosives and Ordnance Disposal? It’s basically bomb squad stuff.”

“Ah.” She has a vague memory of this from middle school. 

“Well, I—I did some digging, Veronica. Just between you and me, I checked out the bus.”

She gasps, exaggerating for effect, and sits forward in her chair. “Do tell!”

“I don’t know who inspected it from the Sheriff’s department—”

“Sacks and Leo,” she supplies. 

“—Or how you know that,” he raises a brow, “but that makes sense. I don’t think either one of them has any EOD training. Or Lamb, for that matter. So they wouldn’t know what to look for to spot a bomb.”

 Veronica rolls her eyes at the utter ineptness of the Balboa County Sheriff’s Department but listens as Keith continues. 

 “But I found it, honey. Evidence of the bomb that caused the bus crash and that a cell phone detonator set it off.”

 She gasps again, this time for real. “Dad, that’s huge!”

 “I know. I just popped up to Fresno to consult a retired EOD trainer who lives there. He confirmed it. Now I just need to get my hands on the cell tower records for the crash site from that afternoon. Then I can go to Lamb with the new information.”

 Her mind races with the possibilities. _We could actually solve this thing._

 She smirks at him. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand…”

 “I often have to explain my brilliance to others, Daughter Dear. Go on.”

 “Why would anyone retire to Fresno?”

 Her dad laughs out loud at her antics, and she internally relaxes another notch, glad things are back on their comfortable footing after the previous conversation. 

 “Oh, I don’t know. It’s as boring as hell but I watched a lot of good minor league games there back in the day. Did I ever tell you about the game where I saw Terrance Cook—”

 “Only a million times,” Veronica cuts off his excited rant before he can tell her again. “You love that story. You should be jealous, in fact.”

 Now it’s her turn to be smug as he raises an eyebrow. 

 “Pray tell, why?”

 “I spent the night at the Cook residence. Learned all kinds of juicy gossip.”

 “And you didn’t need to call me for a ride or anything? Help your old man out,” he jokingly pleads. “At least share the juicy baseball gossip.”

 “Oh, it wasn’t about baseball.” Veronica twirls a pen between her fingers, enjoying the suspense she’s built. “Turns out Terrence Cook was dating Ms. Dumas, my journalism teacher.”

 “The one who died in the bus crash? That doesn’t have anything to do with the Padres chance at the pennant next year.” He makes a tsking noise at her with his tongue. “I’m disappointed. I only care about the baseball talk you overhear at the Cook residence.”

 “Dad. I’m bringing you juicy celebrity gossip—former baseball star had a secret relationship with bus crash victim. This is gold.”

 She’s joking but Keith’s face turns serious. 

 “What makes you say it was a secret?”

 “Oh, well, Jackie didn’t know about it, that’s all. But it’s understandable—dads might not want their teenage daughters to know they’re dating school employees.”

 She gives him a pointed stare but he doesn’t take the bait. He absently scratches the top of his head, still looking concerned. 

 “You don’t think…if he didn’t want people to know about them...maybe I should look into it?”

 “No, of course not! I’m not saying Terrence Cook murdered a bus full of kids because things weren’t going well with his secret girlfriend!” She’s appalled. “That would be crazy.”

 “I agree, honey, but now we know the crash was caused by a premeditated explosion, we have to start looking at all the victims and find out who would want them dead. Getting the cell records will take time.” Keith shrugs and stands up straighter. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s a sad reality of the investigation.”

 Veronica is still dubious. “I guess...maybe we should start looking more at the victims and see if they had anything in common, besides taking journalism at Neptune High. Shared enemies, stuff like that.”

 “If you can just ask around at school...maybe do a little digging…” 

 He taps her desk, obviously lost in his macabre thoughts, before wandering back into his own office. 

 “No problem, Pops,” Veronica mumbles to his retreating figure. 

  _Ick. People are the worst. Silver lining to life in Neptune: plenty of seedy behavior to keep a good PI in business. What to tackle first? Check on Logan in person or do more research on his case? Or…_

 Smirking, she snaps her laptop closed and shoves it into her messenger bag, calling out, “Dad, I’m going out. I’ll see you later.”

  _Who says you can’t do both, Veronica, and maybe more besides?_

 Before he can argue, she’s out the door. Spinning her keys to the Xterra around her index finger, she can’t help but remember the way Logan greeted her the last time she visited him at The Grand. It’s time to return the favor. 


	10. New Harbors

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

“This is Logan Echolls with today’s insperational message. ‘Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sail. Explore. Dream. Discover.’ – Mark Twain”

* * *

 

**Logan**

 

Logan had hoped to take his baby on Operation Save Cinderella, but Veronica insisted his car doesn’t exactly blend. Instead, he’s standing with Weevil and Jackie in Woody Goodman’s hanger trying to pick a car for Meg’s rescue mission. 

He feels like Goldilocks, he just can’t seem to find one that’s just right. 

“No more test drives.” Jackie’s hands are planted on her hips, and her usually airy voice is firm. 

“Aw, come on, Chica.” Weevil protests, running a reverent hand over a cherry red, 2006 Ferrari F430. “This one could work.” 

“No. It can’t. And we have to be at the hospital in an hour. Pick. A. Car.” The last comes out through gritted teeth. 

Logan tilts his head at her. “Have you had coffee yet?”

Jackie growls at him. _She’s clearly been spending too much time with Veronica._

Logan’s hired muscle pulls him a few steps away to check out a silver Maserati. “So, we just walk out the front door with a pregnant woman? You really think going to work, Pretty Boy??” 

“Veronica’s plans usually do.” Logan reassures Weevil over the roof of the car. “Meg’s not in the ICU anymore so she's not being monitored as closely. We’re supposed to go in right after the nurses’ shift-change, and I’ve got clothes and one of Veronica’s wigs.”

“What about Meg’s parents?” Weevil asks as they continue to circle the car.

“Do all bodyguards ask this many questions?” 

Logan ignores Weevil’s glare and bends down to examine the leather interior through the car window. 

“Meg’s parents dutifully attend church every Sunday morning.” As she explains, Jackie gently steers them towards a sleek, black Hummer H2. It’s no Xterra, but it’s large enough for this mission, and not a total embarrassment. He nods his acceptance to Jackie. 

Jackie winks back then dimples at Weevil. “Eli, can you get the keys from the storage cabinet?”

“You roadtripping, too?” Weevil jerks his thumb towards Jackie. 

Her grin widens. “Wouldn’t miss it.” 

Weevil winks at her and goes to fetch the keys. 

“As if I’d leave you two idiots alone with a pregnant woman.” Jackie adds under her breath. 

“What was that?” Logan wonders. 

“Just having a little fun.” Her tone is mischievous and Logan narrows his eyes. _Interesting._

“Hey, guys…” Weevil interrupts, head inside the cabinet. “What does this look like to you?” 

__________________

 

Logan sighs and leans his head back against the supple leather seat. As expected, the rescue mission went off without a hitch. Now they just need to get at least a few towns away so they can breath easy. To distract himself, Logan decides to change his outgoing voicemail. 

“You’ve reached Logan Echolls with today’s inspirational quote. ‘A dream doesn’t become reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination, and hard work.’ Colin Powell.” 

“You do that everyday?” Meg’s voice is rusty, unused. It’s the most she’s said since she climbed into the back of the Hummer an hour ago. 

“He really does,” Weevil, his housemate of one week, confirms from the driver's seat of the getaway car. 

Logan turns in the passenger seat and elaborates for Meg. 

“Every morning. Gotta give the people what they want.” He studiously ignores Weevils snort. “I’m a little late today. I also change my ringtones about once a week.” 

“But...why?” Meg winces and rolls her shoulders. Jackie shifts towards the window, and gestures for her to stretch out.

Logan shrugs. “It amuses me.” 

Meg rubs a hand over her belly. “Do I have a ringtone?” 

Logan bats his lashes, adopts a drawl. “Why, Ms. Manning, that is a very personal question.” 

“That’s Logan for ‘yes.” Jackie translates. 

Logan winks at them and faces forward again. He’s spots the “Now Entering Irvine, CA” sign and immediately takes out his cell phone. A cache of C4 was the last thing he expected to find in Woody’s hanger earlier but he knew enough to document it for Veronica. They’re far enough on their journey, he can finally send her the pictures he took.

Honestly, yes, getting Meg out was important, but he was also worried that if he’d been too close to Neptune when he sent the pictures, Veronica would make them turn around and take her to the hanger so she could see for herself. Calling up the images, he texts the first one. Before he can send the others, his phone rings. 

_“Wise men say, only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you.”_

“It’s Veronica.” He informs the car occupants. And pays no attention to Weevil’s mutter of “No, shit” and the snickers from the girls. 

_Okay, so the songs a little much, but he’s going to be away from her for four days while they get Meg to Seattle and he was feeling sentimental._

“Aw, Logan, being in love with your girlfriend isn’t foolish.” Meg’s teasing tone echos in the quiet car.

 _Shit._ Maybe Veronica won’t notice.

Logan clears his throat, and greets loudly. “Hi, Sugar Pie.” 

The answering silence tells him she noticed. 

His best bet is to employ a Veronica Mars classic. _When in doubt, deflect_. 

“Did you get the picture I sent?” 

Predictably, she grasps the diversion. “Yeah, that’s why I’m calling. What the hell, Logan? Where did you find them? Can you show me?” 

_He knew it._

“Sorry Snookums, we’re too far out of town. They were there when we were looking for a car to borrow to pick up Meg. Actually… Weevil found them.” 

“Thanks for the credit, Pretty Boy.” Rolling his eyes, Logan shushes Weevil. 

“Fine, maybe Jackie’s dad can let my dad in while you’re gone.” 

He can practically hear Veronica pouting through the phone. 

“That’s a good idea.” 

_Yes, let’s leave the explosive for the grownups, shall we?_

“I wish you took more pictures. I want to show them to my dad, see if it tells him anything,” 

“I did take more pictures.”

“Well, why didn’t you send them?” She demands. He’s reasonably sure she’s not _actually_ stamping her foot, but her tone would suggest otherwise.

“Because you called me,” he reminds her patiently.

“Right.” She huffs. “Send them when we hang up.” 

“Yes, dear.” 

“So...how’s Meg?” 

Logan swivels around to check behind him again. Meg is looking off into space and she seems distressed. She’s probably not a fan of spending hours in a car with two virtual strangers and a reformed jackass. He settles back into his seat.

“Um. Good, I think.” 

“Okay, well…call me when you reach the Four Seasons.” 

He can hear the disapproval in her voice and sighs. Veronica doubts his plan, but as much as he loves her, and as much as she’s been around ‘09ers her whole life, she still doesn’t fully grasp the inherent privileges of wealth. The staff at expensive hotels are primarily paid for their service and their tact. If Logan Echolls wants to check into a hotel under the name Logan Lester, no one is going to question it. 

“We should be hitting San Francisco in… six more hours. I’ll call you then.” 

“I wish you’d stay more off the grid.”

“I know you do, but it’s safer this way.” He tells her gently.

“Fine. Have it your way. But if you guys get caught…”

“We won’t.” Meg’s family is more likely to check seedy, rundown motels thinking that’s all Meg could afford on babysitting money. 

“Okay...I better go so you can send me those pictures. Bye, Logan.” Veronica adds quietly, and it sounds like “I miss you.” 

“Bye, Veronica.” He matches her soft tone. 

As soon as he hangs up, Jackie pipes up. “Meg, are you okay?” 

With a surge of panic, Logan pivots towards the backseat. _It’s too soon for the baby to come, right?_

“I'm fine,” Meg answers. 

Logan relaxes fractionally, but studies Meg carefully. She looks like she’s in pain. 

“Heartburn?” Jackie asks, rifling through a small black bag she brought with her. 

She triumphantly pulls out a bottle of Tums and shakes it in Meg’s direction.

Meg eagerly snatches it out of Jackie’s hand and pulls out two. 

_That seems like a lot. Is she supposed to be taking pills?_

“Should you be taking—” 

Both girls glare at him. 

“Never mind.” He catches Weevil shaking his head at him out of the corner of his eye. 

_It was just a question._

“Come on, tell me my ringtone. It’ll distract me.” Meg wheedles as she crunches her Tums and takes a swig from the water bottle Jackie produced from her magic bag. 

“Nope,” he teases.  

He hears rusting and spies Meg pulling out her phone. He knows she’s going to call him, but he doesn’t object. It’s not actually a secret.

_“Papa don’t preach, I’m in trouble deep…”_

_Oops._

Belatedly, he realizes that she might be insulted by the choice. He quickly flips open his phone, cutting off the song. Meg just chuckles.   
“Trust me, I did _not_ escape the preaching.” 

“My turn!” Jackie squeals, her phone already out. 

Resigned, Logan closes his phone again and lets it ring. 

_“I’ll be there for you, when the rain starts to fall. I’ll be there for you, like I’ve been there before.”_

“That’s really sweet.” Jackie’s voice is a little choked up. 

“Don’t cry!” Alarmed, Logan flips his phone open and closed. 

“I’m not _crying.”_ She defends. “It’s just really nice. Relax, Killer.”

_“And I will always love you, I will always love you. You, my darling you...”_

“What the fuck, man?” 

Logan feels his face heating up. He hadn’t noticed Weevil fiddling with his phone under the steering wheel. 

“You know...ah… The Bodyguard.” Logan stammers. _Everyone knows that movie, right? Whitney’s an icon._

Weevil eyes him sideways. “You realize I’m not willing to, like, die for you or anything, right?” 

“Just drive.” Logan mutters under Jackie and Meg’s laughter. “We’ll switch in another few hours.” 

As they near the Four Seasons in San Francisco, Logan takes in his surroundings fondly. His mother took him here a few times when he was little, and he has happy memories of the area. 

“Guys! I think the baby’s coming!”

Logan jerks the steering wheel and the car swerves. 

“Calm down!” Jackie barks at him. In a soothing tone, she address Meg. “Meg, what does it feel like?” 

“Like...I don’t know. It hurts.” Meg whimpers. 

“Okay, try to move. Can you lay down with your head in my lap?” 

Logan is grateful Jackie insisted they take the Hummer as Meg stretches out in the backseat. 

“That’s a little better.” Meg tells them. 

Jackie exhales in relief, and strokes Meg’s hair. “Meg, take some deep breaths and try to relax. You’re not in labor. It’s braxton hicks.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, honey. You’re going to be fine. If you were in labor, moving wouldn’t have stopped the pain. And if it happens again, we’ll deal with it. Okay?” 

“Okay.” Meg’s voice is small, but she doesn’t sound worried anymore.

“Braxton Hicks?” Logan wrinkles his brow as navigates the car to the hotel entrance.

“Hey, how do you all know all that?” Weevil asks from the passenger seat, and shrugs when Jackie doesn’t answer.

* * *

 

**Veronica**

 

“Hey, Veronica, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Veronica looks up from her lunch table, where she had been morosely staring at Logan’s empty spot. Cassidy stands in front of her, twisting his hands together. 

“Hmm? Oh, sure.” 

He raises an eyebrow.  “Where’s your boyfriend? You look a little lost.”

“No, I’m fine. What do you need?” She forces herself to pay attention. She _has_ been missing Logan, honestly, more than she wants to let on. _You have a reputation to maintain_. 

Mac sidles up to Cassidy, putting her hand in his. “I didn’t see Logan in Calc this morning. Is he absent?”

“Yeah.” Veronica thinks fast. “Um, meeting with some lawyers today. Thinking about hiring a big-shot for his case.”

_Note to self: Tell Logan the excuse you made up._

Thankfully he can sweet-talk Ms. Arnold in the main office and get his absences excused. She trusts Mac and Cassidy but Meg’s secret is not hers to share. And if the Mannings were to ever become suspicious, well, lying is safer for everyone. 

She clears her throat and gestures at Cassidy. Mac squeezes his hand, nudging him forward.

“I, uh, I need your help.” He glances around at the quad, teeming with students. “But is there somewhere we can talk that’s more...private?”

Grabbing a french fry off Wallace’s tray as he sets it down, she stands. “Meet me in my office in five.” She turns to Wallace. “Are you free tomorrow after school? I could use backup and my...usual partner is out of town.”

Wallace nods and opens his mouth to respond but Cassidy interrupts, looking confused. “Wait, where’s your office?” 

Veronica smirks at him. “Mac will show you.”

Swiping another fry, she waves at Wallace, “I’ll call you,” and heads back inside, spirits lifted. Nothing like a little favor for a friend to keep her mind off her absent boyfriend.

After glaring at a group of Freshmen girls until they coincidentally clear out of the bathroom, she slaps her ‘Out of Order’ sign on the door and waits until Mac shoves Cassidy inside, waves at her, and pops back out.

Raising her eyebrow, she taps her fingers on the counter behind her as Cassidy surveys the space.

“First time in the girls bathroom?”

“Uh, yeah.” 

He’s so obviously uncomfortable, Veronica sighs and decides to take pity on him. “Sorry, I know it’s not ideal, but I work with what I’ve got.” She gives him an encouraging smile. “How can I help you?”

“I, um, I don’t know where to start.” He looks down at his shoes and shifts his books from one hand to the other. “Mac said I should talk to you…”

She nods and lets the silence stretch out. One of the interrogation techniques her dad taught her is people will generally fill silence if given the chance. He’s not wrong.

Cassidy clears his throat. “I need your help to take down Woody Goodman.”

 Veronica’s mouth drops open. _That’s unexpected_.

“Um…”

He begins to pace back and forth in the small space.

“I didn’t want to say anything...but after he was elected mayor...everybody thinks he’s this upstanding citizen but he’s not a good man, Veronica.” Cassidy turns anguished eyes on her and she stops him in his tracks, hand on his forearm.  

“Cassidy, what are you talking about?”

He takes a deep breath. “Woody was my little league coach when I was younger. He—he likes little boys.”

It takes a second for his meaning to sink in. He keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes until Veronica squeezes his arm.

“Wait—are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

He nods miserably.

“Cassidy,” she whispers. “Are you okay?”

A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “It’s nice of you to ask. You know, I didn’t think anyone cared? I wasn’t okay for a long time but...talking to Mac was good. She, she noticed that something wasn’t right and asked about it. Last week she helped me find a counselor, I’ve been talking to her every day. And talking to you feels...okay, too.” 

“There are definitely people who care.” Though she understands where he’s coming from. Based on her own experience, it takes work to find those people. 

“My therapist is helping me deal with everything, and I still have a lot of work to do, but I couldn’t live with myself if he...does that to anyone else. I wasn’t the only one. He needs to be stopped and the people of Neptune need to know what he really is.”

Veronica takes a step back at the venom in his voice. “What do you think I can do?”

He looks surprised at her question. “Get the bad guy. It’s your thing.”

Taken aback, she blinks. “It’s...it’s not always that simple. But I’ll do my best.”

“Veronica…” Cassidy hesitates. “You and Mac and my therapist...you’re the only people who know about this. I’m not ready...Dick…”

“No problem. I understand discretion. I won’t say anything to Dick or Logan. Or anyone else. Give me a little bit to do some research, figure out a plan. It may take some time.” 

He nods and she peers her head out the door. “Okay, hallway’s clear. Go to class. I’ll be in touch soon, Cassidy.” 

Veronica pulls the ‘Out of Order’ sign off the door and shoos him out of the bathroom. Leaning against the door, she sighs. Every day she’s more and more convinced this town sits on a hellmouth. 

 _What kind of sicko could do that to a child? First explosives in his hanger, and now this. No wonder he got elected mayor—Woody Goodman represents Neptune perfectly. Shiny, respectable veneer hiding possible scandal and corruption._ Balling her hands into fists, she resolves to make Goodman pay. 

* * *

 

**Logan**

 

The Rescue Team enter their hotel suite and, wishing the boys a goodnight, Jackie and Meg immediately claim the only bedroom.

 A cursory glance tells Logan that there’s only one bed left—a pullout in the main room—and since that’s not going to happen he calls down to the front desk for a rollaway. 

 When he hangs up, Weevil waves a brand new deck of cards at him. Logan shrugs his assent. There are worse ways to pass the time.

 Grabbing some refreshments from the fridge, they gather at the little round table off the side of the living room. Weevil shuffles and, by tacit agreement, chooses Blackjack over poker. 

 Logan has just received a dismal 2 of spades and 8 of diamonds when Veronica calls. Relieved at the interruption, he gestures for Weevil to hold on, and picks up. 

 “Hi, Poopsie.” 

 “So… what are you wearing?” 

“Veronica!” Logan gasps in a scandalized faux-whisper. “You know I’m not alone here.” 

“And I can hear every word, Blondie. So, please, stop.” Weevil begs from the seat next to him. 

“Is Weevil in bed with you?” 

Logan grins. “Jealous, Sugarpie?” 

“Maybe.” 

Logan’s eyebrows practically hit his hairline. _Did she actually admit that she’s jealous?_

Concerned, he steps away from the table, out of Weevil’s earshot. 

“Baby, are you okay?” 

“I just miss you.” 

Surprised, he hesitates. This is a bit more vulnerability than he’s used to from Veronica.

“I’ll be home soon, you know that, right?” He reassures her. 

“I… I know. Sorry,” she laughs it off. “I’m being dramatic. You’re right, I’ll see you in three days. Call me tomorrow. ” 

_No point in pushing it._

“I will. Good night, Veronica.” Logan hangs up and walks back to the table, lost in thought as he takes his seat.

She never says “I’m jealous.” Or “I miss you.” Even at her most vulnerable, she expresses herself in quips. So when she does let her guard down, when those little bits of raw honesty peek through, it kills him. _As if he wouldn’t crawl over glass for her already._

Logan picks his cards back up and absently tosses one on the table. “Hit me.” 

Weevil deals him a Jack of hearts for his trouble. Logan doesn’t even know what card he threw down. Checking, he’s mollified to know he at least gave away his low card. Now he’s got 18 _._ “Stay.” 

“She okay?” 

Weevil’s concern is genuine, so Logan tampers down the instinctive glib and replies honestly. 

“I’m not sure. She sounded… sad.” 

“She misses you.” Weevil states as he examines his own cards. 

He says it like it’s a fact and, though at this point it shouldn’t, the unexpected insight surprises Logan. “What makes you say that?”

“Please.” Weevil scoffs, “The hills are practically alive whenever you guys are around each other. I’m surprised she didn’t come with us.” 

“She couldn’t get away for this long. Her dad would notice,” Logan explains. 

“Lucky her.” 

“Yeah.” Logan agrees with an empty laugh. 

“Alright. What you got, Pretty Boy?” 

Logan shows his hand. “18.” 

“20.” 

Logan grumbles at Weevil’s smirk and snatches the cards away from him. “I’ll deal.” 

“Sure,” Weevil indulgently agrees. “If you think that’ll help.” 

As Logan shuffles, Weevil asks again, “So, V really okay?”

Logan pauses in the act of shuffling to analyze Weevil’s face, but it’s one of those rare times the expression on the other end is inscrutable. Logan’s reminded that Veronica and Weevil are friends. And that Weevil’s had her back way more than he has in the more recent past. 

“She’s fine. She’s not hurt or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.” Logan pins Weevil with a measured stare. “And for the record _I_ would never hurt her.” 

He’s not sure if Weevil still thinks he put bruises on Lilly, but surely by this point he’s not stupid enough to think he would harm Veronica.

“I know that.” Weevil stares back evenly. “Now.”

Logan gives him a tiny nod, and slides the last playing card along the table. 

Eyes glued to his cards, Weevil adds casually. “I’m just not a fan of her running around after any Fitzpatricks without us around.” 

“Us?” _When did they become an us?_

Logan flips his second card face up and smirks. _Queen of spades._

“What? Girl’s, like, my sister.” Weevil tosses down a card. 

Rolling his eyes, Logan deals him a new one. “You know, for an only child Veronica’s got an awful lot of brothers. And she’s fine. Brother Wallace is home watching out for her.” 

Weevil taps his cards on the table, looking out the window over Logan’s shoulder. “Look...I...uh… wanted to say… I’m sorry I accused you of hitting Lilly. I saw the bruises and I just assumed… well, you know what I thought.” 

Logan sighs, turning his attention away from the game. Clearly, they’re not playing anymore. Which is a shame because he’s winning. “It’s fine. I’m sure Lilly didn’t disabuse you of the notion.” 

“She didn’t. But, I also didn’t ask a lot of questions. Maybe I should have.” 

Taking stock of his own feelings, Logan is pleased to find no lingering bitterness or resentment. It seems somewhere along the way, he found closure for that part of his life. Maybe Weevil can do the same.

“Honestly, man. Lilly was amazing. She was. But the things she did? She didn’t love either of us.” Logan picks his cards back up. “We both deserved better.” 

“Yeah, I’m starting to realize that.” Weevil lays down his hand. “Blackjack.”

_Damnit._

They play a few more hands in companionable silence, only stopping when the hotel staff arrives to set up the bed. 

“Call it a night?” 

“Yeah,” Weevil agrees. “Long drive tomorrow.” 

Logan locks himself in the bathroom to change into the pajama pants Veronica insisted he bring. _Apparently his standard nightwear of boxer briefs only is for her eyes only_. 

As he walks back to the living room he sends Veronica a goodnight text, and adds a wink. 

Weevil is already snuggled down in the rollaway, so Logan shuts the lights off and slides into the sleeper sofa, made up courtesy of the hotel staff. 

“Good night.” 

“Night, Pretty Boy…. And Logan?” 

“Yeah?”

“Change my ringtone, so I don’t have to beat your ass.” 

In the darkness, Logan rolls his eyes. “Yes, dear.” 

——-

They’re about 10 miles away from Aunt Chris’ house when Meg starts freaking out. 

Unfortunately, Meg insisted being pregnant doesn’t make her an invalid, and she’s behind the wheel. She pulls off the highway, and stops the car on the side of an empty road. 

In the passenger seat, Jackie examines her printed Mapquest directions, “Meg, this isn’t—“

“What if she doesn’t want me to stay?” 

_What the fuck?_

“Meg, you… you told her you were coming, didn’t you?” Logan asks after a moment of unanimously stunned silence. 

“Not exactly.” Meg starts breathing faster, and her words tumble on top of each other. “But she was always really, really nice to me, and she emails me all the time, and she always said if I ever need anything, and she _hates_ my parents—“

“Are we going to have to slap her?” Weevil wonders over Meg’s hysterics.

Twisting violently in her seat, Jackie snarls at him, “I fucking dare you.” 

Weevil holds up both hands in surrender, “Relax, Chica, I was joking.” 

Jackie faces forward without comment, and gently rubs small circles on Meg’s back, speaking softly to her.

“That was kinda hot.” Weevil whispers to Logan, when Jackie stops paying attention to them. 

“Totally.” Logan agrees, and sits back in relief when they start moving again. 

The rest of the ride is quiet. Everyone seems afraid of setting Meg—and, by extension, Jackie— off. A few minutes later, they pull up to a generously sized Colonial-style home on an idyllic tree-lined street. 

“I’m going in alone,” Meg announces when she stops the car. 

Logan keeps his mouth shut. Meg has run the full gambit of emotions in the last 20 minutes, anything he says is sure to set her off. _Note to self, buy condoms._

“Meg—“ 

“Hear me out.” Meg cuts off Jackie’s concern. “I don’t want Aunt Chris to be able to identify you. If anyone ever figures out where I am I don’t want her to have to lie, and I don’t want you to get in trouble.” 

“She’s right.” 

Jackie looks at Weevil in outrage. He stares her down, impressing Logan with his bravery. Crossing Jackie is not for the faint-hearted. “You know she is”.

Jackie glances away first, and grips Meg’s shoulder. “Fine, but we’re waiting in the car until you text us that your aunt will let you stay.”

“Deal.” And Meg jumps out, remarkably light on her feet, all things considered. 

Jackie climbs over the center console and into the driver's seat. “I call dibs on the bedroom when we get back to the hotel.” 

Weevil peers at her from the backseat. “Hold on now. How come…”

Logan tunes out their bickering in favor of texting Veronica. 

**L: Hi, Honey Bunches. We dropped Meg off. I miss u**

**V: Me too**

**L: So. What are u wearing?**

**V: Wouldn’t u like to know?**

**L: Yes. Please. In vivid detail.**

Jackie interrupts his fun, “Meg texted, her aunt is letting her stay. Let’s get to the hotel, I’m exhausted.” 

They’d pushed hard to get Meg to Seattle in two days, only allowing themselves one overnight stay. Tonight they’ll stay the night at a hotel in Seattle so they can catch up on some rest and because Jackie insisted they stick around in case Meg runs into any problems. 

Logan notices they’re not moving and when he looks at Jackie, she just stares back. 

He glances at Weevil, who looks just as perplexed, and frowns at Jackie. 

“I’m not a chauffeur,” she snaps. “Someone get up here.” 

Weevil is out of the car and sliding into the passenger seat before Logan can move. 

He shrugs. _Guess that settles that, then. Now where were we._ He takes out his phone and opens his text messages.

_______

On the last night of their trip, they decide to stay at the San Francisco Four Seasons again. Weevil suggests Blackjack as a way to spend their evening—probably because he was so successful last night—and this time Jackie joins them. 

Logan plays half heartedly while he updates his mental to do list. Veronica is at the top of it, but after that he’s going straight to a realtor to find a more permanent place to live. He is sick to death of hotels. Then he has to meet with Cliff—make some show of keeping him on as his lawyer, since, apparently, he’s been away looking for new representation. 

“Ante up, Pretty Boy.” Weevil nudges Logan’s arm, breaking his train of thought. 

Logan looks at his cards and throws in four green M&M’s, narrowing his eyes at Jackie. His pile of chocolate is decidedly lower. Hers is not.

Jackie smiles at him innocently and adds a few from her own pile. Logan shakes his head. 

Game night would be fun to do when the get back to Neptune. Maybe invite the whole crew. _Another item for the list._

“Blackjack!” 

At Weevil’s declaration Logan grunts. He hasn’t won a round yet. _At least he’s lucky in love._

“Wanna switch to poker?” He suggests. 

“Yes!” Jackie agrees enthusiastically. “Veronica’s been teaching me!” 

“Forget it!” Weevil and Logan shout at the same time and Jackie blinks. 

Weevil quickly deals out another round of Blackjack. 

“So...how is Blondie?” Weevil asks, gesturing to the phone that’s never too far from Logan’s side. 

“She’s good, new case. And she says she has an update on the so-called ‘witness’ on the bridge.” 

_Knowing Veronica it was only a matter of time, but still, it’s a relief to hear that there’s progress._

“What’s going on with that?” Jackie throws down a card, adding, “Hit me.” 

Logan shrugs. “I don’t know. She’s going to call me after she has dinner with her dad tonight. Veronica will figure it out.” 

“You got that much faith in Blondie?” 

Logan raises a brow. “Don’t you?”

“Guess I do.” 

“Well, Veronica certainly isn’t lacking for fans.” Jackie jokes. 

Logan studies her face, pleased to only see amusement there. Madison and Shelly would have spent the entire night making catty comments and bitching in general. Clearly he’s upgraded his friendship circle. 

He grins at her. “You have to admit, Veronica is good at what she does.” 

“She is, isn’t she?” Jackie looks thoughtful, but doesn’t say anything more. 

Logan knows an “I need a favor” face when he sees one, but he also knows Jackie, so he doesn’t press. 

“Time to eat.” Logan gets up to search for the room service menu. “Any requests?” 

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Weevil’s not picky.  

“I’ll do sushi tonight if they have it.” 

 _Is she serious?_ “Have it? Of course they have it. But—”  

“But two nights ago you took our heads off for even suggesting sushi.” Weevil protests. 

“Two nights ago,” Jackie explains with exaggerated patience, “We were with a pregnant woman who couldn’t eat sushi and shouldn’t have to watch you eat it...or smell it.” 

Rather than argue with her, Logan orders a spicy tuna roll for Jackie, and deluxe burgers for Weevil and himself. He sits back at the table and picks up the cards to shuffle and deal. 

“So, how _do_ you know all this stuff about pregnant women?” Weevil asks. 

Jackie fiddles with her M&M’s, organizing them by color, then takes a deep breath. “Well, I used to be one.” 

She barks out a short laugh at their shocked expressions. Shrugging at Logan she adds, “I told you when we met I wasn’t a nice girl. After all this with Meg...I’m starting to think that has to change.” 

A little unsure, Logan rests a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she gives him a wobbly smiles in return. 

“It’s a long story. I’ll explain it over dinner. But… I think I might need Veronica’s help.” 

_Don’t we all._

* * *

 

**Veronica**

 “So, what do you need, V?” Wallace asks, sliding into the passenger seat of the LeBarron. “Where we going?”

Veronica buckles her seat belt and pats her canvas messenger bag. She can’t keep the smug smile off her face. 

“We’re going to confront the coke-head doctor who accused my boyfriend of murder and convince him to recant his false testimony.”

“What?” Wallace’s eyes are wide, fixed on her. 

“Did you really not hear me or—"

“Come on, girl! I’m supposed to be watching you and—”

Veronica gasps. “You’re what?”

“I mean,” he backpedals, “I just don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sure there’s another way—”

“Clearing Logan is my number one priority. You can attack me, try to frame me for murder, that’s fine. But nobody messes with my boyfriend,” she growls, “and if you’re not going to help me, you can just get out of the car.”

“Calm down!” He holds up his hands in surrender. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. Of course I want to help you clear our boy. But you’re not making any sense. Start at the beginning, please.”

Sighing impatiently, she taps her fingers on the steering wheel. 

“Dr. Griffith said he saw Logan kill Felix on the bridge that night but he’s lying and I can prove it! So we’re going to convince him to withdraw his statement.”

“Nope. Logan would definitely not approve of this.” Wallace pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds it up. “You know I’ll call him if I have to.”

“You’re such a traitor,” she mutters. “And I think he would definitely approve of me clearing his name. I’m even bringing you as my backup!”

He sighs and tips his head back, staring at the roof off the car. 

“Veronica. This is—Wait a minute! I have a better idea!”

“Than mine? Doubtful.”

But he ignores her complaint and rushes on. 

“You said you have proof, right?”

She nods. 

“Well, just take it to Echolls’ lawyer and get the case dropped that way.”

“But—”

Veronica can’t think of a reason that won’t work. _Damn sensible Wallace. It would have been so fun, putting the screws to Dr. Griffith._ She huffs at him, glaring. 

“Oh, all right, fine. We’ll take my evidence to Cliff instead.” Glancing over at the smile on Wallace’s face, she adds, “Gloating does not become you.”

When he tries to play with the radio, she slaps his hand away and makes him ride the rest of the way in silence. 

Cliff’s office is located in a rundown strip mall a few blocks from her dad’s office—definitely on the wrong side of the tracks. It’s sandwiched between a Hispanic grocery store and a nail salon that’s always suspiciously empty, and some of the letters on the glass front door have rubbed off so it reads, ‘The L w Office of Cli  ord McCor ack, E q.’ 

Veronica pushes the door open, calling out, “Clifford!” as they enter.

“What?” comes the harried response from the back half of the small space. The ‘reception’ area of the office contains three scratched metal folding chairs, a tiny plastic patio end table, and a very dead plant. ‘Welcoming’ is not Cliff’s specialty.  

Walking through the waiting room, they enter Cliff’s office. It’s wall-to-wall filing cabinets and boxes of papers stacked haphazardly on top of each other. Veronica once offered her services to help organize Cliff’s paperwork, but he claimed he knew exactly where everything was and forbid her from laying a finger on anything. 

The man himself looks frustrated, hunched over his desk, and his brown hair’s mussed as if he’s run his hands through it repeatedly. 

“Clifford. You remember Wallace?” She gestures from one to another.

He doesn’t even glance at Wallace. “Charmed, I’m sure. What do you need, Veronica?”

She smirks at him. “I’m here to make your day.”

“Go ahead. Make it.” 

She glares at his impatience and just for that, decides to torment him. After slowly clearing fast food wrappers off the chairs in front of his desk, she sits and Wallace joins her. 

“Do you want my help or not, Dirty Harry?”

With a deep sigh, Cliff sets down his pencil. “Yes, dear. Go on.”

Veronica pulls out a manilla file from her bag and waves it in his face. “Dr. Tom Griffith is lying and I can prove it.”

Cliff sits up straighter in his chair, clearly interested now in what she has to say. 

“What do you mean?”

Opening her file on his desk, she lays out a series of printed pages. “I can’t believe we didn’t catch it sooner. Really, it should have been the first thing we checked.”

“Veronica, spit it out!” Wallace’s impatience bubbles over. He’s leaning forward, too, trying to see her evidence. 

Cutting her eyes at Wallace, she explains. 

“Hannah Griffith mentioned something to me the other day about how her dad was gone all summer. Not exactly all summer...but close enough. He and his first wife have recently divorced and he went on multiple vacations with his new girlfriend, including a Caribbean cruise the first two weeks of May.”

Veronica’s lips curve into a satisfied smile as Cliff’s eyes widen.

“When? The beginning of May? But…” He begins rifling through a pile of papers on his desk. 

“Yep. Felix Tombs was killed on May 10. And Tom Griffith was out of the country until May 15.” 

“How did we miss this?”

“I really don’t know, Cliffy.” She pats the file on his desk. “Credit card receipts, airline tickets, passport stamps, it’s all here. His testimony is as fake as all six of my IDs. You’re welcome.” 

As she stands and sashays out of his office, he calls out a desperate, “Thank you!” to her retreating figure. She doesn’t stop until she’s back in her car, Wallace beside her.

“That was fun.” She grins at him. “Not as fun as making Dr. Griffith recant his own testimony would have been, but still good.”

He shakes his head. “You have some interesting hobbies, V.”

“I never want you to get bored.” She pats his knee and starts the car, backing carefully out of the parking space. “I probably didn’t need backup to visit Cliff, but thanks for coming with me anyway. And now you can report back that I’m not being reckless.”

She pins him with a glare and Wallace shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“It’s not like that. He just, he cares about you, is all. Think of it more as a tag-team effort to keep you safe.”

Veronica huffs but doesn’t have a real argument against that.

“Anyway, it looks like he’s not the only one who cares. I thought you were going to disembowel me earlier for not doing enough to help Logan. You got it bad for him, girl.”

She very carefully continues to look forward, focusing on the road, as Wallace watches her out of the corner of his eye. Thinking of a million possible deflections, she takes a deep breath. This is Wallace—her best friend. And he does bring a male perspective to things, so maybe it could be helpful to talk to him.

“So what if I do?” Veronica tries to hit a flippant tone but she glances at him, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“He’s a good guy, V. Better than I ever realized. I didn’t get it at first, but now…”

“I miss him, Wallace,” she confesses in a small voice. “It’s only been three days but…”

“Aw, Supafly, they’ll be back soon. I know it’s hard for you to admit that you have feelings but it’s okay to like your boyfriend, to admit that you miss him. You can have a marshmallow core and still be a badass.”

“Thanks.” She flashes him a quick smile, then goes back to staring out the windshield. It’s easier for her to talk when she can look somewhere else. 

“I’m not trying to pry but...are you serious about him?”

“What do you mean?” _Jackie asked the same thing. Why does everyone want to know if it’s serious?_ She immediately feels defensive and has to remind herself that it’s just Wallace, it’s just a question, they are just talking. _Calm down, girl_.

“I dunno. Like, do you see him in your future? Are you thinking about including him in your college plans?”

“Why do you ask?”

Wallace sighs. “It’s really okay, V. I’m not trying to meddle or get in the middle of things. It’s just, I’m friends with both of you now. You know I got your back but I gotta look out for my boy, too.” He taps his knee, silent for a second. “You know, If you break his heart when you go off to college, I’m gonna have to pick up the pieces.”

Swallowing, Veronica tightens her grip on the steering wheel and forces herself to reply. 

“We haven’t really talked about the future. I don’t know where I’m going to go to school, or what Logan wants to do, for that matter. My dad has always discouraged me from being too serious about a high school relationship but…. Wallace, if these last few days are any indication, if things go south, you’ll have to pick up my pieces, too.”

“Does he know that?”

“I...think so?” Veronica is hesitant, not sure what Wallace is getting at.

He gives her a pointed look. “Maybe that’s something you should know.” 

She’s not sure what to say to that. _Why did you have to pick the one guy who’s insightful as a best friend?_ Driving the rest of the way to his house in silence, Veronica contemplates his words. 

She pulls up to his driveway, putting her car into park and punching his shoulder gently. 

“Thanks, buddy.”

“Anytime, V.” 

After Wallace hops out, Veronica stays parked, mulling over what he said. Is she serious about Logan? She’s only eighteen, for crying out loud. She doesn’t want to be too attached but...she can’t imagine not having him in her life. 

 _Do you...love him, Veronica?_  

She expects the words to send a shiver of fear through her but...it doesn’t come. Logan loves her, certainly. He hasn’t said it, not recently, but she knows. And that doesn’t freak her out, either. When she thinks about him, a rush of affection fills her chest. She wants to call him just to hear his voice, tease him and make him laugh, feel his arms around her and breathe in his scent. 

_Yep, it’s official. You’re in love with Logan Echolls._

_So what are you gonna do about it, Veronica?_

Wallace definitely hinted that she should let Logan know how she feels. She squirms in the driver’s seat and bites her lip. _That’s just so...vulnerable._

But for all his faults, Logan has proven trustworthy with her heart this time around. The jackass with a deathwish is gone, leaving, well, just a regular jackass in his place. 

 _Regular_?

She can almost hear Logan take offense to the term and she has to stop herself from laughing out loud. 

Logan, making his way in the world on his own, no support system beyond the family that he’s cobbling together for himself. When was the last time anyone has told him that they loved him, and actually meant it? She tries to imagine what she’d be like without her dad...and marvels again at her boyfriend’s emotional strength. He hasn’t pushed her on it, but she knows how much hearing those words would mean to him. 

_So how do you tell someone “I love you?” Just blurt it out? Wait until the moment feels right? Rent a skywriter?_

_What would Logan do?_

A smile spreads across her face as she drives off, heading to the store for supplies, mind racing with her plans. 

* * *

 

 **Logan**  

From the backseat of the Hummer, Logan peers around the driver’s seat and reads the speedometer again. He pokes Weevil’s shoulder. “Can’t you drive any faster, grandma?” 

“For the last time, I’m not getting pulled over so you can have sex.”  

“We’re having dinner first.” Logan grumbles under his breath. 

“Yeah, well, people that look like you get tickets. People that look like me get frisked. We’ll get there when we get there.” 

“What about people that look like me?” Jackie asks coyly, reclined in the passenger seat. 

Still focused on the road, Weevil’s tilts his head toward Jackie. “Baby, no one looks like you.”

Logan rolls his eyes at their banter. He has someone to banter with, too. And he could do that if Weevil would just _drive faster._  

Not that he’s exactly looking forward to dinner with Veronica’s dad. It’s like the man knows Logan’s seen his daughter naked. A lot. But Veronica said she has plans for him after, and that sounds extremely promising. He still has to thank her for getting his case dismissed, and _his_ plan is to do that tonight. Repeatedly. 

“Look at that, Pretty Boy, almost home.” 

Logan spies the Welcome to Neptune sign through the car window, and sends Veronica a text. 

_Be there in 20 minutes, Baby. See you soon._

 ____

When they arrive in Neptune, Logan has Weevil drop him off at Veronica’s apartment. Belatedly, he wonders if he should have washed up before dinner, but he’s too excited to see Veronica again to bother with it. 

He hurries up the stairs of her complex and laughs involuntarily when she pops out of the apartment door and launches herself at him. He catches her, spinning with glee, as his hands grip her hair and he tries to devour her in a needy kiss. _God, she makes him giddy._

The kiss turns hungry, Veronica’s legs tighten around his waist, and has to stop himself from sliding his fingers under her flouncy skirt. Pulling his mouth away, he rests his forehead against hers, holding her close as he steadies his breathing.

  
“Been checking for you.” She peppers his lips with kisses as she talks. “Dad’s pulling the lasagna out...missed you.” She ends with a long kiss, jumps down and tugs him towards her home, whispering, “Fix your shirt.”   

He looks down, and realizes she popped open a few buttons on his gray polo. He struggles to close them one handed as he crosses the threshold. 

“Logan.” Mr. Mars takes in Logan’s disheveled state, and his brows draw together, but he only says, “Glad you could join us, son.” 

Grateful for the lack of interrogation, Logan smiles and lets Veronica lead him to the kitchen island. They both hop up onto stools as Keith proudly dishes up the lasagna. It’s too hot to hold it’s shape, so it’s sort of oozing out on the plate, but it smells delicious and Logan can’t remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. His stomach rumbles, loudly. 

“I see you and Veronica have a lot in common.” Mr. Mars comments. 

Logan laughs. “We do, in fact I also—”

Veronica’s is eating with her right hand, and her free hand roams under the island, startling him as it comes to rest on his knee. 

“—think Maraschino cherries are a food group.” He manages to get out. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Veronica doesn’t seem to notice his predicament.

Mr. Mars chuckles. “So, son, how was your trip?” 

“Good, we got M—” Veronica squeezes his leg, slightly higher, and it feels like a warning. 

“We?” Keith’s sharp gaze meets his. 

“Oh...um...yeah, I took Weevil—Navarro?—with me to meet with the lawyers.” 

See? He _knows_ the cover story. But the expanse of her milky thighs visible in that skirt—she’s _distracting._ It’s her own fault, really. 

“I didn’t realize you were friends with Eli.” 

At her father's easy acceptance of the lie, Veronica pats his leg in approval. 

Logan clears his throat. “He was having some problems at home, so he’s staying with me now. He offered to share the driving, make it a quicker trip.” 

Logan mentally searches for safe topics of conversation and comes up lacking. He should have asked Veronica for a pre-approved list. He settles on, “Dinner is delicious, I can’t wait for dessert.”

Veronica tightens her grip, this time twice in quick succession, causing his fork to clatter to his plate. _What’s that supposed to mean? Next time she needs to tell him the code before they start eating._

At his confusion, she sends him a small head-shake. _What’s wrong with asking about dessert?_ He quickly picks up his fork and stuffs a bite of lasagna into his mouth, hoping that Mr. Mars will start quizzing Veronica instead. 

“How’s your case going?” _No such luck._

“Great, ever since Veronica—” She squeezes again, this time even higher on his thigh. Hard.

“—hooked me up with Cliff. The charges have been dropped. Cliff managed to prove Dr. Griffith was lying.” 

“ _Cliff_ did, did he?” Mr. Mars gives Veronica a long look, and she answers him with an innocent smile. Her hand is still wrapped around his upper thigh and, clearly, she has no idea what that’s doing to him. _Baseball. Cold showers. French verb conjugations. Think about anything besides Veronica’s fingers._

But she moves her hand, skimming along the inseam of his jeans and that’s all it takes to make him hard. Logan’s knee bangs the top of the island with a thud. 

That’s it, this has got to stop before she kills him. Or her father does.

_Deflect, distract, play defense._

“So Mr. Mars, did Veronica show you the pictures of the explosives we found in the hanger?”  

As the man drones on about explosives and something about cell phone towers, Logan gracefully transfers his fork to his left hand, and reaches under the table. Thoughts of her little skirt are driving him crazy. 

He tries not to smirk as he slides his right hand up her smooth skin. _She started it, after all._

Goosebumps visibly rise across her body and she sighs, low, around a bite of lasagne. Painful need to spikes through him. 

This is literally the longest dinner of his entire life. On the plus side, Veronica withdraws her hands and folds them primly on the table. Logan accepts the show of truce and puts his palms in view on the table as well.

The second her dad takes his last bite, Veronica gets up and starts clearing the plates. “Have fun at poker night, Dad, tell Cliff I said hi!”

“Veronica,” Mr. Mars frowns, “I thought we could have some dessert, I bought ice cream and a whole new jar of ‘fruit’ for the occasion.” 

“Oh, didn’t Cliff tell you?” Veronica places a kiss to his head as she breezes to the sink. “I dropped off a batch of your favorite cookies so you can munch and play.” 

Her dad perks up. “The ones with the Hershey kiss in the middle?” 

“Those are the ones, Dad!”

“Alright, alright.” He pushes back from the table. “I know when I”m not wanted.”

“But Veronica,” he warns, grabbing his keys, “I am coming home. And I want you here when I get back. Alone.” He nods towards Logan. 

“I _know,_ Dad. I’m gonna take Logan home and I’ll see you later.” 

“Good night, honey.” 

When Mr. Mars finally leaves, Veronica holds Logan off, cracking open the door just enough to poke her head through. 

“He’s gone!” She calls, and pulls her head back in. She pushes it closed again and Logan presses against her from behind. 

“What was that, during dinner?”

With his body flush against hers, he pins her to the door and smirks at her sharp intake of breath. 

“Just trying to make sure you stuck to the approved topics.” Her voice wavers and he decides they’ve had enough talking for the time being. 

Wrapping her ponytail around his fist, he pulls her head back and growls in her ear, “Bedroom. Now.” 

He sucks on the smooth column of her neck.

“No, not yet.” She protests on a moan, leaning further into him. “Have plans.”

“I have plans, too.” He grinds against her for emphasis.

“Logan, no.” Her voice is firm. His insides freeze and he steps back immediately. 

When she turns to face him, he searches her features but only sees desire and determination. 

He furrows his brow. He reaches for her, then thinks better of it and holds his hands at his sides. “What’s wrong, baby?” 

_Is she nervous?_

“I’m supposed to be wooing you, and you’re distracting me.” 

 _He’s_ distracting? He blinks. _Woo him?_  

She starts pacing. “Wallace asked if you knew, and then I realized I had to tell you—it’s not right that I haven’t—and—“

She babbling and Logan’s eyes widen, the thoughts from the last few days fresh in his mind. “Veronica, are you pregnant?” 

Veronica stops pacing, and looks at him, perplexed. “What?”

_Shit. Did that come out wrong?_

“What I mean is, if we’re pregnant… I mean, I have money so we’d be fine...unless you don’t want... whatever you need, baby... just… It’s good that I'm going to buy a house.” 

It's her turn to blink. “A house?” 

“For the baby.” _Didn’t he already say that?_

“Logan. Do I look pregnant to you?” 

He opens his mouth, thinks better of it, snaps it shut and tries to convey his adoration with his eyes. 

“You’re an idiot. I’m not pregnant,” she informs him. “I love you, you moron. God knows why.” 

“You… love me?” 

She stomps her foot. “I had a plan. I was going to romance you. Make it special. There’s dessert. I had— _”_

He’s having trouble processing the fact that she said she loves him— _out loud—_ _and_ she isn’t halfway to Timbuktu right now. And... _there was going to be romance?_ _From Veronica?_

“I think I need to sit down before I pass out.” 

She peers closely at him. “Are _you_ pregnant?” 

He scowls at her. “Shut up.” 

He sinks down on the couch. “You love me?” 

“Yes,” she confirms. 

“You know I love you.” 

“Obviously.” 

“Why aren’t we horizontal right now?” 

“Because I had—“

“I know, I know. A plan.” He waits a beat. “Baby?” 

“Yeah?”

“Fuck the plan.” He lunges off the couch, and scoops her up, carrying her to her room. He sets her down inside, and closes the door, wishing it had a lock. 

Veronica Vannah White's her desk drawer and pulls out a shiny new box of condoms with a flourish. She dutifully places one on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed to kick off her motorcycle boots.

She looks up to find him staring. “Strip,” she demands as she unbuttons her blouse.

He shrugs out of his gray polo, toes off his shoes, and shoves down his jeans and briefs in what feels like one motion.

He’s been waiting days for this, and between her roaming hands at dinner and declaration of love he’s about ready to burst. They just need to be naked already. Except… “Leave the skirt.” 

Her fingers hesitate at the waistband of her pleated skirt, then shrugs and scoots back on the bed, sitting up against the wall. She looks at him expectantly. 

Seeing her arranged on her bed, with her thighs spread just enough for him to see the damp lace between her legs really just fucking does it for him. He swears he’s been having wet dreams about this exact scenario since they were 14.

“What are you doing? Get over here.” 

Her impatience snaps him out of it, spurs his own, and he crawls in after her. Reaching under her skirt he finds the straps of her thong. She lifts her hips as he pulls the scraps of lace down her body, dropping it to the floor. 

His ducks under the skirt, and replaces the lace with his mouth, single-mindedly focused on making her come against his tongue.

She grips his hair with both hands, but instead of urging him closer they way he likes, she tugs his head up so they’re eye level. 

“Logan, please. I want you inside me.” 

He licks his lips. He likes that, too.

A little frantic now, and shaky with it, he snatches the condom, kneels in front of her and quickly rolls it on. Logan pulls her away from the wall, lifts her, and tosses her on the bed. Her legs fall open and she reaches for him. He lowers his body over hers, fists the side of her skirt tightly, using it to raise her hips, then surges into her.

She goes crazy, nails raking his back, legs squeezing him, and she’s muttering something he can barely hear over the roaring in his ears as she meets him thrust for thrust.

When it registers that she’s chanting, “I love you,” everything in him quiets. The urgency of chasing pleasure, the general chaos in his brain, all soften.

She gave him the words already, she’s not one to dwell. So he knows, he _knows_ , she’s saying it for him. 

He slows his pace, languidly sinking into her, each movement taking on new meaning. Deeper meaning. 

And she’s not having it. 

Veronica leans up on her elbows and looks deep in his eyes. “I love you. I need you.” She sears his mouth with a kiss. “But stop messing around and fuck me, Logan.” 

She puts her mouth right over his ear and goosebumps breakout over his entire body. “Make me come.”

_Jesus Christ._

“Keep talking like that and this won’t last long.” Despite the warning he can’t stop himself from thrusting faster.

“Yes.” She moans, head thrown back, biting her lip. “I’m not looking for endurance, I’m looking for results,” she rasps out. 

And with that, on a strangled laugh, he comes.

She follows almost immediately, mouth open in a silent scream, squeezing around him, drawing out his own orgasm. 

He kisses her sweetly, brushing her hair back from her sweaty brow, then collapses next to her. Rolling her on top of him, he holds her close while they catch their breath. He kisses her forehead. 

“Love you too, Bobcat.” 

 

* * *

 

### Veronica 

Veronica sighs and nuzzles her head into Logan’s chest. His arms tighten around her and a deep contentment fills her. Nothing could make this moment more perfect. 

_Except…_

“Dessert!” She exclaims, sitting up as Logan’s eyes flutter open. 

“What?” His voice is scratchy and he blinks at her. “I watched you eat your weight in lasagna. How can you still be hungry?”

Veronica ticks off points on her fingers. “One, I always have room for dessert. And two, we just burned a lot of calories. It’s time to refuel.”

Hoping off him, she grabs her discarded clothes off the floor and slips her underwear back on under her skirt.

“Wait, what are you doing?” 

At the look of distress on Logan’s face, she hurries to reassure him with a smile and a quick kiss on his cheek. 

“Come on, we’re going to go have dessert.”

He wraps his hand around her wrist and tugs, giving her a wicked grin. 

“How about dessert in bed? I’ve got some amazing uses for chocolate sauce and whipped cream that I think you will really appreciate.”

“Nope.” She tosses his pants at his head and chuckles at his offended gasp. “You may have ruined some of my plans but we’re still having a picnic dessert on the beach.”

Pulling her shirt over her head, she ignores his complaints. 

“If you don’t come with me, I’ll just eat yours, too.” 

“I promise that if you stay here, I’ll make it worth your while...again.”

“Picnic. Beach. Now.”

She stalks from the room, knowing that he will follow. 

Five minutes later, Logan meets her at the front door. Grabbing a tote bag and her keys, she links her fingers through his and leads him down to the bonfire pit already set up on the sand. 

“Ta-da!” Waving her hands at the scene, she pulls a blanket and a lighter from her bag, settles Logan on the beach, and lights the bonfire. Then she brandishes the ingredients for s’mores and begins roasting him a marshmallow with the sticks she left there. 

Logan can’t seem to keep the wide grin off his face. He reclines on the blanket and watches her. 

“You really planned all this out, didn’t you, Bobcat?”

She sticks her tongue out at him, while she carefully slides the marshmallow off the stick and sandwiches it between two graham crackers and a chocolate square. 

Handing him the s’more, she says, “I did.” She licks her sticky fingers and starts roasting another marshmallow. “I wanted it to be special.”

Still lying on his side, he reaches out and strokes her arm. “It was. I’m sorry I ruined your plans but…” He takes another bite. “No, actually, I’m not. It was really special anyway and…”

He trails off, his voice full of emotion. 

Veronica’s marshmallow catches on fire, startling her, and she quickly blows it out. Kneeling on the blanket, she turns to face him and decides to complete her plan anyway. _Logan deserves it, after all, and you already went to the trouble of getting everything ready._

“So. I was going to bring you down here and make you s’mores and tell you that I love you and I missed you and that…” she takes a deep breath and forces herself to continue, “That I want my future to have you in it.”

Logan’s mouth drops open. “Veronica, I—”

She cuts him off with a kiss, dropping her roasting stick and pressing her mouth against his fervently. He tastes like marshmallows and chocolate and home. 

“I love you, too,” he whispers against her mouth as she pulls away. 

“I know,” she tells him. “I’ve known for a long time. But I’m glad that now you know, too. It feels good to say it.”

He lets out of a whoop of joy, startling a nearby seagull, and rolls into his back, pulling her down fully on top of him. His arms are tight around her and she’s in the perfect position to nuzzle his neck. So she does. 

“Veronica.” His voice is strangled. “This is a public beach...don’t start something you’re not prepared to finish.”

“You were the one who grabbed me!” She protests, sitting up and digging her elbow into his ribs. 

“Ow! You owe me another s’more, just for that.

Muttering that he deserved it, she goes back to assembling her s’more as he curls his body around hers. She feeds him a messy bite, smearing chocolate and marshmallow on his face, before stealing the rest for herself. 

“Happy now?” 

“Deliriously.”   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient with us on this update, friends. It took us some time to get back into the right mindset but we are hoping to return to weekly updates to finish out this fic!


	11. Turning to Friends

* * *

“You’ve reached Logan with today’s inspirational message. ‘Some people go to priests. Others to poetry. I to my friends.’ Virginia Wolfe”

* * *

**Veronica**

“Snuggly Bear.” Logan sits up from his sprawl on the couch in the Mars Investigations office waiting area and eyes her speculatively. “I was a tad surprised to hear about your prize-winning essay…”

Veronica gives him an innocent gasp. “Are you insulting my writing skills?”

She folds her hands primly on top of her desk and waits to see how he’s going to dig himself out of this hole. 

“Of course not… You just seemed more smug than surprised when it was announced so I figured…” He reclines again, lacing his fingers behind his head and Veronica admires his biceps in his fitted grey Henley. 

“Tell me,” Logan continues. “Who did you have to bribe to make that happen? Mrs. Murphy?” He sits up, interested. “Or was it blackmail?”

Her eyes twinkle as she replies, “Mr. Clemmons, actually. A favor of his choosing, whenever he needs it.” 

Logan raises an eyebrow. “I’m disappointed in Van. Bought so easily.”

“Who said it’ll be easy?” she scoffs. 

“Are you going to tell me why you want an internship with Woody Goodman?”

Grimacing, Veronica comes around the desk to sit by him on the couch. 

“This is one of those times where I can’t.” She holds up a hand to halt his protest. “You know I trust you completely. It’s an issue of client confidentiality. I promise I will be safe, though, and that if I need help I’ll call you or Wallace.”

“And you just think we’ll come running, no questions asked?”

Before she can start to fret, he places a gentle kiss on her nose and smiles. 

“Because that’s exactly what we would do.” 

 _Could he be any hotter?_ Veronica grabs a fistful of his shirt and pulls him closer for another kiss, expressing her admiration and losing herself in the moment. 

“Veronica? Are you here?” Keith calls out as he enters the Mars Investigations office. “I saw your car in the parking lot but…”

His voice trails off as Veronica springs apart from Logan on the couch, blushing, and Logan fidgets nervously. Her dad’s eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. She jumps up and bustles over to him.

“Dad! I thought you’d be here. I just stopped in after school to see if you needed any help.”

Still staring at Logan with a fierce gleam in his eye, Keith explains. “I was out. But it’s actually good that Logan’s here, I need to talk to him about something.”

Logan stiffens next to her before hopping off the couch. _Oh, shit_. She steps in front of him, as if she can shield him with her tiny body. 

“Dad, I just remembered, I—”

“I was just at the Echolls residence.” He cuts her off. 

Logan sinks back down onto the couch.

“Well, the Aaron Echolls residence,” Keith amends. “Logan, I don’t want to put you in a bad spot but would you be willing to answer some questions?”

Logan gives her dad a wary look as Veronica sits beside him, grabbing his hand. “What kind of questions?”

Keith sighs. “Quite honestly, the kind that no kid should have to answer.” He waves his hand in their direction. “I don’t doubt your loyalties but I don’t want to ask you to implicate your father.”

With a firm nod, Logan says, “Mr. Mars, he murdered Lilly, locked Veronica in a freezer and tried to set her on fire, not to mention put you in the hospital. Ask away.”

She squeezes his hand as affection for him floods her body. 

“Okay. Did you know that the, um, tapes of Lilly and Aaron are missing from the evidence locker?”

“Yeah, I heard something about that.” Logan huffs a bitter laugh. 

“Dad,” Veronica is hesitant. “I’m pretty sure I know who took them.” She glances at Logan, confirming that it’s okay to share the information. At his nod, she continues. “What I don’t know is why.”

“I’m more worried about what this means for you two. Logan, have you seen the tapes?”

He shakes his head and Keith turns to Veronica. “You have, though. You may be called to testify about the information, then.”

Now it’s Logan’s turn to squeeze her hand. She hadn’t really thought about the ramifications of the upcoming Aaron Echolls trial. She knows Logan despises his father— _but it’s one thing to know that, and it’s another to have your current girlfriend testify against him._

“Veronica,” Logan’s voice is urgent and deep. “I want you to do that. You know that, right? You have to help put him away. For me. For Lilly.”

Inhaling sharply, she nods. _Justice for Lilly. Just remember that._

“Here’s the really awkward question, Logan. Do you know anything about...who your father might be seeing these days?”

“Dad! Ew.” Veronica gives him a look of disgust. 

“I know, honey, and I’m sorry to have to ask.” 

Keith looks expectantly at Logan, though, who shakes his head. “I moved out at the end of the summer, right after he made bail...I don’t remember seeing anyone before that…” 

Grimacing, her dad explains. “I just wondered how long it’s been going on. I’m pretty sure that Aaron is seeing Kendall Casablancas.”

“Gross.” Veronica makes a face but Logan stays silent. 

“I’ve been examining all the bus crash victims, trying to see why anyone would want to murder them, when it occurred to me that we have to look at all _potential_ victims, not just the ones who actually died. Mr. and Mrs. Casablancas had just taken out a sizable life insurance policy on Dick and Cassidy.” 

Keith leans back against her desk and crosses his legs, his posture casual but the severity of his words sink in and Logan jumps up, pacing around the small space.

“Wait, are you saying...they planned the bus crash to murder their kids and collect life insurance?”

“No, Logan, that’s not what I’m saying. I was merely looking at possibilities and following the money. And the current Mrs. Casablancas,” her dad raises his eyebrows knowingly, “Well, she seems like the sort who’d do whatever it takes to stay in the lifestyle to which she’s become accustomed.”

“Have you met her? Because yeah, she’s a total gold-digger but she requires a domestic staff to make cereal. Mr. Casablancas could maybe orchestrate something like that but not Kendall.” Logan pauses for a second, tugging his sleeves over the heels of his hands as he walks. Keith moves to his vacant spot on the couch.

“How do you know about her and my—Aaron?” 

Logan’s expression is shuttered, unreadable.

“I was actually following her, trying to come up with a plan to question her about the money, when she ended up at your—at Aaron’s. After a little surveillance, it quickly became apparent that they are...an item.”

 _Yuck_. The pictures she’d taken of Kendall with Jack Montana a few months back were bad enough. At least she didn’t have to see Kendall with Aaron Echolls. The snippet of the tape she watched was plenty disturbing.

“And another thing. I told you the other night I’d finally gotten the cell tower records, right?”

Halting his pacing, Logan stops and stares blankly at her dad but she nods, excited to hear what he’s learned. Just then, her phone goes off. Glancing at it, she grabs it off her desk. She has a moment of indecision at the thought of her dad and Logan left alone together, but she needs to talk to her latest client.

“Oh, sorry, I’ve gotta take this.” She hurries into her dad’s office and closes the door firmly behind her. 

“Cassidy,” she answers, perching on the edge of her dad’s desk. “Do you have that information I requested?”

“I don’t know, Veronica...I feel like I’m breaking their trust.”

“You want to make sure this doesn’t happen again, right? I need a little help.” She tries to keep her voice soothing and persuasive and not let her impatience seep in.

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah, okay. I know for sure about Marcos Oliveras and Peter Ferrer. Jamie Leahy, Tyson Richarsdon, Johnny Ludden, Jordan Taylor, Michael Curry, Franklin Carvahlos, Justin Mize, and Robin Luddington were also on the same little league team.”

Veronica’s hand shakes as she finishes writing the list, forcing herself to focus after the first names he mentioned.

“You realize I can’t interview Marcos and Peter, right? They both died in the bus crash.” She tries to keep her voice steady but it sounds off even to her own ears. 

“I know. I thought maybe you could ask some of the other guys…” Cassidy trails off.

“I don’t recognize them. Do you know if any of them go to Neptune?” _There. Take a deep breath, Veronica, and work on the case._

“Yeah, a few of them are in my grade. I think some of them might go to Pan?”

“Okay, I’ll look them up and see what I can find. And Cassidy? I know it’s hard to talk about but...thanks for trusting me with this.”

“Talk to you later, Veronica.”

Taking a moment to school her features before she goes back out into the main office, Veronica mulls over what she’s learned. _This can’t be connected to the bus crash, right? But it’s a hell of a coincidence…. Is there a chance that someone was trying to keep Marcos, Peter, and Cassidy quiet? Woody Goodman? Or someone else?_ She’s determined to find out. 

“Honey?” Her dad taps on the closed glass off the door. “Can I have my office back, please?”

Clearing her throat, she calls out, “Sure, Dad. Come on in.”

He does, and places a quick kiss on the top of her head.

“You got any more information about the bus crash?” she asks, trying to keep her voice light and curious. Logan comes to stand in the doorframe, leaning against it, watching her.

“Actually, I got the cell phone tower records for that afternoon. Did you know Curly Moran was in the area?”

Logan’s eyes widen and Veronica’s mind races. “Curly? We never did find out who fingered him to the PCHers. The burner phone was a dead end. Sounds like he’s connected somehow, though.”

“Yeah.” Keith moves behind his desk and begins digging through a pile of papers while she goes to stand by Logan in the doorway, leaning her weight against him. “I’m gonna do a deep dive into his financials, see if we missed anything earlier.”

“Okay. I have a few more things to work on out here. I’ll let you know before I head home.” Veronica jerks her thumb in the direction of her desk but her dad is already distracted with the latest development in the case.

“You okay?” Logan whispers in her ear, rubbing his hand up and down her arm as she closes the door to her dad’s office.

She nods woodenly and tries to muster up a smile to convince him. “Fine. I just—the case I took. Sorry, I would tell you more if I could.”

Logan appraises her, leaning back against her desk and pulling her to stand between his legs. “Is it why you wanted that internship in the mayor’s office?”

Biting her lip, Veronica confesses, “Maybe.”

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.” He gives a deep, dramatic sigh, tightening his arms around her. “This means you’ll miss out on house hunting.”

“House hunting?” _Was he being serious the other day when he said that?_ She whispers so her dad won’t hear, “You know I’m not pregnant, right?”

“Yes, Veronica. I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately. I don’t want to live in a hotel forever.” Tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, he takes the opportunity to caress her cheek. His touch sends shivers of pleasure down her spine.

“So...does this mean you are planning to stay in Neptune...permanently?” 

Logan shrugs. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Have you applied to any colleges yet, Jelly Bean?” She tries to keep her voice light, carefully not nagging at him. 

“Obviously you can veto this plan, but I kinda thought I could tag along on your college visits, see if anything appeals to me. Regardless, I wouldn’t mind having a home base in Neptune. Maybe we can check out Hearst together soon.” His hands span the small of her back and he presses his lips to _that spot_ on her neck. The one that drives her crazy. 

“Logan!” she whispers. “My dad is right there!”

“I should know by now you can’t keep quiet.”

“And you can’t distract me with kisses. Back to this house—”

“Is that a challenge?” He muffles her words with another kiss.

Laughing against his mouth, she pulls away. “Are you sure you’re ready to buy a house, though?”

He shrugs. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’ll miss getting your opinion, though.” Snapping his fingers, his eyes light up. “Great idea: I’ll bring everyone else.”

“Everyone else?” 

“Yeah. Dick, Jackie, Wallace, Mac. Everybody.”

“Don’t you think—”

“That’s enough talking for now.” And he cuts her off again, pressing his mouth against hers. If she didn’t like it so much, she’d stop him, but as it is...she doesn’t mind it too much.

* * *

 

**Logan**

“Why are all of us here again?” Wallace asks staring up at Logan’s potential new home. 

Okay, maybe it was overkill having the entire Scooby Gang join him for house hunting, but it’s not like they had to see a million houses, just the one. 

“Yes, why _are_ they here?” Vanessa Watson, Logan’s shiny new realtor, eyes the group milling on the lawn with distaste. “This was supposed to be a private showing.” 

Logan chose Vanessa because she was just a couple of years older than him and hungry for her first sale—but he’s starting to wonder if he made a mistake. Logan stares at the woman impassively, until she shrinks into herself slightly. 

Satisfied, he nods. “They’re here because I want them to be.”  Logan spies Wallace biting back a grin at his haughty tone. Logan dismisses Vanessa with a wave of his hand, not bothering to reply to her huffy bid for his attention. 

While he waits for her to let them into the property, Logan takes a moment to appreciate the smooth plaster siding and russet, Spanish style roof tiles. 

This might be the one. It meets his, surprisingly long, list of necessities almost exactly. New construction, privacy, pool, gated community, larger than a hotel room, but not so large that he’ll feel lonely when it’s empty. Which, hopefully, won’t be often. He’s certain he can convince Veronica to stay over as easily as she can convince her father she’s spending the night with Mac. And there’s enough room for the entire group to stay if they wanted to crash. 

When Vanessa pushes the door open, they enter a sizable foyer, and immediately head off in opposite directions. 

Dick goes left shouting something about the pool, Cassidy following quietly behind. Jackie and Mac wander further into the house, leaving Logan, Wallace and Weevil with Vanessa. With a shrug, Logan directs his boys to the kitchen. Vanessa races up and catches Logan’s arm, enthusiastically pointing out items of interest on the short stroll.

Logan frowns down at Vanessa’s hand on his forearm and Weevil casually steps in between them, causing Vanessa to drop his arm. 

Undeterred, Vanessa steers Logan towards the built-in double ovens, and starts droning on about her famous pot roast. 

“Yes, yes, the ovens are lovely. Wallace, aren’t they perfect for my _girlfriend,_ Veronica?” 

Wallace nods vigorously. “Girl can _bake._ ”

Vanessa’s brow furrows. Before she offers to make cookies or something, Logan spies Jackie wandering and calls out to her.

Jackie scans the room, her eyes linger on Vanessa’s proximity to Logan, and a small smile of understanding tugs at her lips. “Hey, Logan. What do you need?”

Vanessa eyes the newcomer with a raised brow. “Is this Veronica?”  

Jackie’s laughter tinkles out. “Be lucky I’m not.” She walks over to loop her arm through Logan’s. “Come on, friend. Let’s check the rest of this place out.” 

“Thanks for that,” he whispers as they head out of the kitchen.

Jackie pats his arm consolingly. “It’s that pretty face of yours, Killer.”

Logan sighs. “A gift, and a curse.”

“So modest.” Jackie grins. 

Logan looks around. “Where’s Mac?”

“She’s with Cassidy and Dick, checking out the pool.”

“Okay, good. There’s something I want to show you.” He leads her upstairs, follows the floor plan he memorized down the long hallway, and aims her towards a medium sized bedroom.

“So, um, this is your room.” He gestures expansively. 

Jackie drops his arm and steps back. “My what?”

“It’s not much, it’s not even the biggest guest room, but it has a bathroom that connects to another bedroom, and I thought...if you wanted to stay here with your son, it would be the best option.”

Jackie stares at him, expression undecipherable. 

“I know your relationship with your dad is new and… well.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, jingles the change there. “If it doesn’t work out, you have another place to go. You don’t have to uproot your life back to New York. 

Jackie’s face remains unmoved. “And what does Veronica think about this plan?”

“Veronica and I talked about it. She’s cool with the idea of us being roommates. For some reason, she thinks I need to be kept in line.” He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t mention your son, you said you wanted to tell her, but—oof!”

Jackie’s fierce hug cuts him off. Freeing his hands from his pockets, he gives her a small squeeze back. She rises on her toes to kiss his cheek, then pats him on it. “Logan Echolls, I’m going to have to start calling you Fluffy.” 

Logan affects an exaggerated gasp. “No! You’ll ruin my street cred.” 

Jackie shakes her head and Logan gives her a sly look. “So, there’s room for anyone else that wants to come by. A certain bodyguard, maybe?”

Jackie doesn’t bat an eyelash. “Oh, did you hire someone?”

Logan huffs in annoyance. _Her poker face is a good as his_. 

“Guys, get down here,” Dick bellows from below and Jackie winks.

“Come on, Killer, let’s go before Dick accidentally burns down your house.” 

“My house?”

“Well, that’s my room. So I suppose you’re going to have to buy the house.” 

When they get downstairs everyone, and Vanessa, is waiting for them in the living room. 

“Come on, look what I found!” Dick exclaims, opening the sliding doors and leading around the pool to a small glass and wood structure standing just off the side of it. 

Logan trails behind the group. They seem excited and he doesn’t have the heart to tell them that he plans to tear down the pool house. If he never saw another pool house in his entire life, it would be too soon. 

As Logan enters, his friends’ chatter fades into the background. It’s _not_ a pool house. Not really.

It’s one large room. The entire front of the structure is glass, and the large panes frame a gleaming oak door in the center. He instantaneously thinks of Veronica, of spreading her out in front of those glass panes, pressing her against them.  

Just inside is a sauna big enough for at least five people. Behind it is a small enclosed area with a bathroom and changing area. Running along the perimeter of the room is a fully stocked wet bar. 

But the real focal point is an in-ground hot tub that can easily fit eight people. Or two very active people. He could position her in front of a jet, pull her head back so it’s resting on his shoulder while he bites down on her neck and sinks into her. Sit on the convenient bench while she straddles him— 

“Do you think your fiancé will like it?” Vanessa interrupts his thoughts. 

“Not engaged,” Logan murmurs absently.

“Oh, that’s a shame.” Vanessa steps closer and brushes against his side, but he doesn’t spare her a glance. His mind is on the various hot tub possibilities….

Weevil clears his throat. 

Logan swivels to face Vanessa, and she stumbles back. “I’ll take it!” 

Vanessa blinks, but recovers quickly. A feline smile spreads across her face. “Why don’t your… friends wait out here while we discuss the details inside.” 

“Sure, I’ll meet you in the downstairs study.” He ignores Vanessa’s quick look of triumph, and addresses his friends. “Guys, I want to put an offer in today. Can you take a bunch of pictures for Veronica? I don’t think she can get down here to see it for a few days, but I don’t want to wait.” 

“No problem, dude.” Dick is already snapping pictures with his phone. Everyone follows suit, except for Cassidy, who is shifting uncomfortably and not making eye contact with anyone. If Logan were a betting man, he’d say whatever Veronica was up to had to do with Cassidy, but unless she needs backup, it’s none of his business. He’s more concerned about buying this house and getting her in the hot tub as soon as possible. A cash offer should help.

Logan leaves his friends to catalogue their surroundings, and goes in search of Vanessa. 

He walks into the study to find Vanessa leaning on the edge of the desk, blouse opened one button too far.

Logan sighs. _A gift and a curse._

Logan looks behind him to make sure the door is wide open. “Why don’t we talk outside?” 

_Where there are people. People who would be happy to sub-in for Veronica with piano wire._

“Why don’t we close the door?” Vanessa suggests, sliding off the desk and slinking towards him. 

Logan backs up and bumps into a body. Looking over his shoulder, keeping Vanessa in his peripheral, he sees it’s Weevil. 

Logan wouldn’t blame Weevil for being suspicious. He’s always been protective of Veronica and Vanessa’s young and pretty and blonde. All good things. But she’s too tall, and doesn’t cart around a battered old messenger bag, and she doesn’t say ‘I love you’ with marshmallows and bonfires. 

Logan moves so Vanessa and Weevil are on opposite sides of him. To Weevil he declares, “It’s not what it looks like.”  

“It looks like,” Weevil eyes Vanessa up and down, “Fake V over here is trying to make a move. Clearly she hasn’t met Real V yet.”

Logan can’t stop the laughter from bubbling up as Vanessa huffs and mutters, “It’s not like they’re married.” 

“Careful there, Vanessa, my girl carries a taser. Offer full asking, cash, and get back to me with an answer.” In good cheer, Logan bounces towards the door, gesturing for Weevil to follow. “Hey man, thanks for guarding my body.” 

* * *

 

**Veronica**

“Veronica Mars. Keith’s daughter, right?”

Woody Goodman holds his hand out for her to shake and she does, nodding her head. She wore the most conservative, professional thing she could find in her closet this morning—an ugly tan pantsuit with a white blouse buttoned up to her chin—even though from what she’s heard, she’s not Woody’s type. Despite that, her skin crawls at his touch. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. It will be a pleasure to have you in the office this week.” He gives her a wide smile and she tries to return it. _Poker face, Veronica. Give off eager intern vibes._

“Thanks for the opportunity, Mayor Goodman. What would you like me to do first?”

“Beverly will get you all set up.” And with one last politician’s grin, he ushers her out of his office. 

——-

Grumbling, Veronica dutifully sorts through the bin of mail Woody’s secretary had given her. _Ten bucks says having a student intern for a week was not Woody’s idea. What a joke._

 _But this will look good on college applications_ , she reminds herself. 

 _College. The future_. She’s been so focused on what’s been going on in Neptune that she’s avoided thinking too much about her plans for next year. It’s still scary to admit it, but she can’t imagine college without Logan by her side. 

 _Although you can’t imagine it without Wallace, Mac, or Jackie, either_ , she reasons. _Does that mean their choices should factor into yours?_  

There was certainly a time in her life where she couldn’t imagine doing anything without Lilly; she hates that she has to but she knows she will adjust if she doesn’t go to the same school as her closest friends. _There’s always phone calls and road trips to visit._

 _But Logan_ ...even she can admit that her relationship with Logan is different than things with Wallace or Mac. The thought of only phone calls and weekend visits with him makes her panicky.

 _And now he’s buying a house in Neptune. Does that mean you should stay here?_ When she was younger, Veronica had dreamed of Stanford, and last year her biggest goal was to get the hell out of Neptune. She’s pretty sure that Logan would happily follow her wherever she wanted to go— _but is that really the best thing for him? Shouldn’t he have his own goals and desires?_ It’s not that he’s aimless or apathetic; it just must be different to have enough money to not worry about the future—and no adult guidance pushing for decisions to be made. He’s not dumb, either, not by any means. He’s one of the smartest people in their class and she’s long suspected he has a photographic memory. If she can convince him college is important, he’ll do fine. _What does Logan want, though?_ , she wonders, and resolves to ask him soon. He mentioned visiting Hearst together the other day. She had honestly never considered it before but maybe it’s worthing looking into. 

Veronica’s musings are interrupted as Woody exits his office. _Finally_. She’s been waiting for him to go to the bathroom all day. 

After checking that Beverly is occupied at her desk, typing away, Veronica slips into Woody’s office. She retrieves a tiny black listening device from her suit coat pocket and sticks it under the lip of his desk, in front where he’s unlikely to notice. She’s already planted one in the antechamber. Unsure of what she’s looking for, she figures bugging the office is a good place to start and since she’s here, she might as well. 

She takes the opportunity to go through Woody’s unlocked top desk drawers but it’s what she expected—office supplies and a stash of snacks. Next she tries the filing cabinets lining the wall, but it’s all county records and financial documents. _What did you think you’d find, Veronica? Hate mail?_

All of the filing cabinets contain county paperwork but Woody must have personal information stored somewhere. The bottom desk drawers might be large enough to contain files. Not knowing how much time she has, she quickly picks the lock on the left drawer. 

_Getting warmer._

Well, it’s not helpful but at least it’s personal—income statements for the Woody’s Burgers chain. Bolstered by this slight success, she closes this drawer and picks the lock on the second one. 

 _Yahtzee_. 

Here are the Goodman personal bank statements, tax records—ugh, Veronica wishes she could photocopy everything. Maybe later in the week. She skims as fast as she can. Mortgage payments, bathroom remodel, pool maintenance. Woody bought a new car recently, had it detailed and inspected—at Symbolic Motor Company. She checks the invoice. His mechanic was no other than Curly Moran. 

“Veronica! What are you doing in here?”

She jumps at the sound of Woody’s voice, her heart pounding and her hands shaking. She drops the paperwork back into the file and silently closes the drawer as Mayor Goodman crosses the room. 

“Oh, sorry.” Looking around lamely, Veronica makes up an excuse. “I was just...looking for a pen.”

“A pen, huh?” His predatory smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Here you go.”

Catching the pen he tosses her—leftover from his mayoral campaign, apparently, because it says ‘Woody’s a Goody’—she hurries past him out of his office. As she sits down at her makeshift desk in the outer office area, still shaking, she pulls her phone from her purse and composes a text to her dad. 

**Veronica: Curly Moran was Woody Goodman’s mechanic. Combined with the explosives Logan saw in his hanger, is it enough to question him about the bus crash?**

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to wait long for his response. 

**Dad: But what about motive? Wasn’t his daughter on the bus?**

**Veronica: Gia stayed at the stadium and rode home with her dad. Trust me, he had motive.**

**Dad: Lamb’s gonna need more than that to question the mayor, Veronica. I don’t know if his cell pinged the area towers or not. What makes you so sure?**

Sighing, she grabs her phone and sneaks out to call him. _Sorry, Cassidy. The goal is to keep your name out of things as long as possible._

——

After explaining her suspicions to her dad without mentioning Cassidy, Veronica goes back to her intern desk and the bin of mail. She’s probably going to get kicked out after less than a day, but she’s so concerned with what she found out about Woody that she’s not sure she cares. She’s still staring at the mail, so distracted that the names blur, when Sheriff Lamb walks in.

He looks her up and down, then narrows his eyes, mouth pursed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’re the ‘well-placed source in the mayor’s office.’” He shrugs and brushes past her into Woody’s office.

Immediately, Veronica fishes her headphones and the receiver for the bug out of her bag. Slipping one of the earbuds in, she proceeds to listen in to the conversation taking place in Woody’s office.

As she eavesdrops, Veronica becomes certain that Woody is not responsible for the bus crash. According to his blubbering explanations to Lamb, Gia had wanted to ride in the limo back to school. Woody wanted Gia to make new friends and pushed her to ride the bus, but she refused. He agreed to let her take the limo, until he saw the way the Casablancas kid was eyeing her. He insisted on driving her home after that. She should talk to Gia and verify but it rings true. 

_Damn it. You still need to find a way to discredit Goodman._

She thinks back over everything she’s learned in her journalism classes, considering journalistic integrity and ethical reporting. Then she remembers the haunted look in Cassidy’s eyes when he asked her for help and the way Woody’s handshake made her skin crawl. Resolved, she grabs her cell phone out of her purse, dialing. _Maybe a little scandal is just the thing…._

“Yes, Martina Vasquez, please? I have an urgent tip to report.”

Waiting for Ms. Vasquez to come on the line, she taps her ‘Woody’s A Goody’ pen on her desk and hopes she’s making the right decision.

“Martina Vasquez, speaking. How can I help you?”

“Ms. Vasquez? I think you might want to get down to the County Building. Sheriff Lamb is questioning Woody Goodman in connection to the Neptune High bus crash.”

* * *

 

**Logan**

“Aren’t you going to carry my tray?” Veronica asks as she leaves Gia Goodman’s lunch table and meets Logan at their group’s usual spot. 

“Veronica, I can’t be seen holding a lunch tray.” Logan stares at the offending plastic yellow tray with exaggerated horror. 

“Relax, Honey Bear, I won’t ruin your rep.” She assures him, and takes a seat across from Mac, Cassidy, and Wallace. Logan scoots in next to her.

Dick joins them, hopping up on the table next to Veronica, who grumbles and shoves at his legs with her shoulder. “Ordered during last period,” he announces. “Should be here in five.” 

Logan watches Veronica look around, and smirks the moment it dawns on her that she’s the only one with a lunch tray. Wallace notices too. 

“Didn’t you get Dick’s text, Supafly?”

“All it said was ‘Indian!’” she protests at Wallace. 

“What did you think that meant?”

“It could have been anything. It’s Dick!”

“Food’s here!” Weevil walks up to the table with the delivery guy, hands Dick cash as he passes him, and takes the open space next to Logan. 

“Somosa Chat is mine!”

Veronica gasps at Mac, “Et tu, Mac?” who just shrugs sheepishly. 

While Veronica pouts and stares down at her tray, poking listlessly at her lunch, Logan rolls his eyes and dumps half of his Lamb Korma into his carton of Basmati rice. 

He takes the half empty container and slides it to Weevil, who adds some of his Chicken Tikka Masala, and plops it in front of Wallace, who forks in Chicken Curry. Around the table the black plastic container goes, until the generous Indian cuisine sampler is given back to Logan over Veronica’s head. 

Veronica is joylessly sawing her breaded chicken patty into little pieces when Logan makes the switch. Her face lights up, and Logan bites his lip to hold back his laughter. When Mac starts snickering, he can’t help but join in and soon the whole table is giggling. Veronica’s “Whatso funny” slurred around a forkful of masala makes them roar even harder. 

The mirth quells when the PCHers, led by Thumper, sidle up to the table. 

“Always knew you wanted to be one of them,” Thumper sneers at Weevil. “They paying you to run errands, son?”

“Sort of,” Weevil nods his head towards Logan. “I’m his bodyguard.” Weevil’s reply is easy, but his knuckles whiten around his fork and knife.

“Hey! I thought I was your bodyguard,” Dick complains.

Dick never gets enough credit for diffusing tense situations with his affable, deliberate misreading of a room.

“Veronica retired you, man,” Logan informs him. 

Veronica picks up the volley. “Remember what happened last time I put you in charge of his body?” 

Thumper scrambles to get a word in. “Was that when we beat his ass?” 

Veronica blinks at him, and her look very clearly says “oh, are you still here?” 

Logan swallows a chuckle and turns back to Thumper, noting that Weevils hands are relaxed, and his demeanor is amused. 

Jackie elbows her way through bikers, “Mmm, yes, six against one. Very brave.” She glances down at her lunch tray, then surveys the table. “Is _that_ what Dick’s text meant?” 

Veronica perks up, smug. “Come sit near me, friend,” she calls to Jackie. 

“You think—“ 

Veronica interrupts Thumper by clearing her throat, and looking pointedly at Mr. Clemmons, who’s watching them closely. With a grumble, Thumper signals the PCHers to move on, and they leave in a flurry of lewd gestures and bad language. 

“Stay classy!” Jackie aims in their direction as she sits on the other side of Veronica. 

Logan’s phone vibrates in his pocket, Vanessa’s name on the caller ID. Nerves swoop in and settle in his stomach. This has got to be the answer to his offer. He rubs his thumb over the little green phone button before firmly pushing it.

“Hey, Vanessa.” 

“Who’s Vanessa?” Veronica whispers. 

“Realtor.” Logan whispers to her while he waits for Vanessa get to get to the point. Weevil kicks his leg. With a sigh, Logan covers the mouthpiece. 

“Vanessa, realtor, 22, has the hots for me. I’m not interested.” 

“Has the hots for you, does she?” Veronica sounds almost pleasant. 

“Uh-oh. Maybe someone should guard Vanessa’s body,” Mac mutters. 

Logan winks at Veronica. She’s so cute when she’s jealous. They’ll probably still have time to take a quick trip to the Xterra if Vanessa would stop droning on about her amazingly savvy call to the seller’s agent. The problem with living this close to LA is that every conversation has to have some sort of dramatic build up.  

“Vanessa?” Logan interrupts sweetly. “Can you please get to the fucking point?” 

Veronica sends him a feral grin and his eyes burn into hers. 

“They accepted this morning.” Vanessa huffs.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“They accepted your offer! The house is yours. If you want to celebrate…”

He hangs up on her, and turns to Veronica. “Baby, I got the house!” Her face lights up, eyes soft, and she cups his cheek, brushing her thumb over his cheekbone in a familiar gesture.

“Let’s get out of here before clothes come off.” Wallace groans. 

 _Wallace is extremely perceptive._ Logan whispers in Veronica’s ear, “Bathroom or car?” 

“Bathroom. More space.” 

He loves how her mind works. 

They walk among their friends back to the school building, laughing and jostling each other good naturedly. Despite their altercation with the PCHers, as a whole they’re in good cheer. Which is why no one knows quite what to do when Duncan comes barreling up to Veronica. 

“What did you do with Meg?” Duncan rages and Logan has a brief flash of prying Duncan’s hands off of Jake Kane’s neck. 

It kills him that Veronica has to take the lead on this. He stays firmly planted by her side but relaxes a fraction when Weevil, Wallace, and Dick arrange themselves in front of Jackie and Mac. After a moment, Cassidy steps up as well. 

Veronica adopts Logan’s sweet tone from earlier. “Why would I know where your girl—I’m sorry, _ex-_ girlfriend is?”

“I know you helped her escape.”

“You know, you should really be concerned when you’re using words like ‘escape’ in regards to your girl—sorry, _ex_ -girlfriend.” 

“God, Veronica.” Duncan’s lip curls in disgust. “Were you always such a bitch?” 

“Oh, shit.” Wallace pulls Veronica away just as Logan plants his fist in Duncan’s face. 

Logan feels the satisfying crunch of bone beneath his knuckles, and then Duncan is on the floor clutching his nose and cursing.

Logan looks back to see if Veronica is okay, and— _uh-oh_. She’s giving him that look that makes him instantly hard. He may as well have “Dove Chocolate” stamped on his forehead. 

“Looks like V’s taking over bodyguard duty,” Weevil jokes, leading Jackie around a prone Duncan. 

“Bathroom. Now,” Veronica commands, and pulls Logan away without even a glance down. 

“Party at my house tonight!” Dick yells after them. “Strip poker—ouch! Damn it Mac, that hurt—regular poker!” 

* * *

 

**Veronica**

“Welcome, friends, to the first annual Casablancas poker night extravaganza!” Dick gives a wide grin as he opens the door and ushers Logan and Veronica inside. Cassidy and Mac are already there, visible on the couch in the living room. Veronica’s determined to talk to him tonight about the resolution of his case. He didn’t say anything at lunch today and she wasn’t able to corner him earlier. 

As Dick and Logan execute their complicated guy hand-shake, the doorbell rings behind her and she opens it for Jackie and Wallace. 

“Hey, party peeps!” Dick greets his newest guests. “Come in, come in! Prepare yourselves to make Senior memories.”

Jackie raises an amused eyebrow and sashays in while Wallace and Logan tease each other about their poker skills.

“Yo, open up,” comes Weevil’s muffled voice, pounding on the door. “I wouldn’t want anyone to drive by and see me standing out here.” 

“Dude! Come on in.” Dick throws the door open wide. “Everyone’s here. Let’s head down to the man cave and get this party started!”

Linking her arm through Jackie’s, they all traipse through the house, following Dick downstairs to the basement. Standing in the middle of the space, he throws his arms wide.

“Dad just finished redoing the game room. I figure someone should get to enjoy it.” Dick shrugs. He doesn’t seem too bothered by his father’s disappearance and thankfully he’s not blaming Veronica for it. _Maybe he and Cassidy are better off this way._  

Leading the way, he heads over to the bar area, filling a plate with snacks. There’s popcorn, chips, a veggie tray (probably for Mac,) cookies, brownies (that most likely pack more of a punch than just chocolate), fruit kabobs, and a pot of chocolate fondue for dipping. 

Veronica looks around the basement in awe. Standing in Mr. Casablancas’s game room is like being transported to a 1920s speakeasy. The lighting is dim. Dangling bulbs and metal lanterns above the wooden bar reflect off the copper-paneled ceiling tiles. The far wall is lined with shelves of liquor bottles and glasses that twinkle in the yellow glow. The middle of the room is currently dominated by a large, oval poker table, complete with green felt and eight tufted leather chairs. Stacks of poker chips have been placed at each spot and several decks of unopened cards are already on the table, as well. 

Dick sets his plate down on one of the tables in the corner, converted from old whiskey barrels, and encourages everyone else to dig in and grab some snacks. Veronica, never needing to be told twice to eat, grabs Jackie and Logan with each arm and tugs them towards the bar. She loads her plate with snacks and lets Logan pour her a glass of champagne. _Why not?_ He pours one for himself and another for Jackie, which he delivers to her at her table with Weevil. Veronica eyes her friends speculatively but is quickly distracted by Logan’s hand on the small of her back, steering her to a tall barrel table. 

“Cheers to your house.” Sitting down on one of the wooden stools, she touches her flute to his and smiles. “I can’t wait to see it.”

“I can’t wait to christen every room with you,” he leers before taking a sip. 

“With champagne?” she asks, innocently. “I think that’s boats, where you break a bottle of champagne over the hull, not houses.”

Logan pulls her close and whispers in her ear. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. I’m gonna fu—”

“Okay, tiger, calm down.” She covers his mouth with her hand, blushing. “We’re in a room full of people. You can tell me your naughty plans later.”

“Count on it.” He bobs his eyebrows at her but moves back a reasonable distance. Clearing his throat, he asks, “Would you care to make a side wager about the game tonight?”

Veronica rubs her hands together with delight. “Ooh, raising the stakes, Echolls. I like it. But clearly, taking your money would be unfair of me. You have so much, it’s barely a motivation anymore.” She taps her lip, faux-thoughtful. “Whatever should we bet, then?”

Logan practically growls. “If I beat you tonight, then I get to buy you underwear.”

“I’m not seeing the downside for me.” She shrugs. “I wear underwear everyday.”

“Not that kind of underwear.” His eyes lock onto hers, burning with intensity. “I get to go pick out whatever I want and you have to wear it for me.”

 _File that one away for his birthday, Veronica_.

“Oh, that kind of bet, huh?” She tries to keep her tone light, casual, so that he doesn’t know how very turned on she is at the thought. “Alright, then.” Whispering in his ear, she murmurs, “If I win, it’s my turn to boss you around tonight. Whatever I want, wherever I want it.” 

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows audibly, holding out his hand to shake. “Deal.”

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

“The _pleasure_ ,” he draws out the word, “will be all mine.”

Veronica shifts on the wooden bar stool, surreptitiously rubbing her thighs together, trying to achieve a modicum of relief. Logan must notice her squirming because he raises an eyebrow but before he can comment, Mac and Cassidy set their plates on the table.

“Mind if we join you?” Mac asks.

“That’d be great!” Veronica hurries to include them, and keep Logan from saying anything else seductive. “Actually, I had a question for Cassidy. Can I borrow him for a second?”

“Sure.” Mac’s small smile shows off her dimples as she gives a ‘go ahead’ gesture. Logan glances at Veronica knowingly but doesn’t ask any questions. 

“Mac, see if you can weasle Logan’s poker strategy out of him while I’m gone.” She winks at Logan as she pulls Cassidy away. Ducking into the media room, she corners him. 

“Hey, you okay? Sorry I couldn’t touch base sooner.”

Cassidy rubs the back of his neck and stares at his shoes. 

“Martina Vasquez’s expose outside the county building? That was you?”

“You thought it was coincidence?” She’s incredulous. 

“Well, no, but—thanks, Veronica.” Finally looking at her, there’s relief shining in his eyes. 

“Does justice feel like you thought it would?”

“Honestly?” He looks back down at the ground, toes his sneaker absently into the carpet. “No.”

“Emptier than you expected?” She probes, trying to catch his gaze.

He meets her eyes again, surprised. “How did you know?”

“Lilly, remember?” She pauses, trying to explain herself. “The Woody thing’s not ideal—I mean, Martina reported that Lamb was questioning him about the bus crash, there aren’t any charges against him or anything. He’s still in office. The news story is just a hit to his reputation. But if Neptune even thinks that he’s connected to killing a bus full of kids—”

“They won’t let him near a Little League field ever again?” He finishes for her. 

“Well, if people start to question him in the future, it could go a long way towards getting him out of office. That kind of scandal, even if he’s innocent, should be enough to keep him away,” Veronica elaborates.

Cassidy nods, resolute. “It doesn’t feel like what I thought but, Veronica—it’s enough. How much do I owe you?”

“For this one? Just expenses. I’ll write up an invoice.” She jerks her head in the direction of the game room. “You ready to go lose some money?”

His sweet smile spreads across his face. “I don’t really know how to play.”

“Stick with me, kid.” She throws her arm around him, doing her best Bogart impression, and steers him out of the room. “I’ll teach ya.”

——-

No surprise, at the end of the evening it’s down to Veronica and Logan. Dick and Wallace are still seated at the table with them, trash talking and giving color commentary on their game of Five Card Draw. Jackie and Weevil have relocated to one of the tables in the corner, flirting with each other, and Mac has fallen asleep on the leather couch, her head on Cassidy’s lap. 

Veronica eyes her cards. Logan dealt, and gave her a pair of eights, the Ace of Spades, plus a two and a five. After meeting his bet, she asks for two cards. This time she’s dealt a six and the Ace of Hearts. Two pair isn’t bad, especially with aces, but Logan’s not ready to fold yet. Veronica assumed she would easily decipher all his tells but his inscrutable poker face is world-class. 

On the next round, she asks for one card... and is thrilled to find the Ace of Clubs. She’s much happier with her full house than the two pair. Keeping her expression impassive, she meets his call and orders him to show his cards. 

Unfortunately, he has a straight flush. Grinning wickedly, he gloats loudly, then whispers, “I’m gonna love this shopping trip.”

“Shopping trip? I don’t remember agreeing to that,” she hisses. 

“Obviously you have to try things on and make sure they fit. And model them.”

Veronica doesn’t hate the idea of wearing lingerie for Logan; in fact, the opposite. She’s thrilled to know what turns him on. But her competitive nature is fierce and she can’t stand the idea of losing to him. 

“Jackass,” she mouths as she shuffles and deals them each five cards. 

“Veronica, it’s late. Can you hurry up and beat him?” Jackie calls from across the room. 

“Yeah, Blondie. Finish the job.”

Weevil taps his wrist (although he’s not wearing a watch.) Cassidy has fallen asleep on the couch with Mac and Dick has his head down on the table, eyes heavy, while Wallace makes his millionth round trip to the snack buffet. 

Logan glances around at their tired companions. “You ready to end this, Bobcat?”

“Winner take all?”

“Yes,” Weevil answers for her before turning to Jackie. “I could just take you home now, you know, if you’re tired.”

Tossing her curls, she brushes him off. “I don’t mind driving. Plus, there’s something I need to talk to Veronica about before we leave.”

Veronica’s instantly curious but Logan doesn’t look surprised. _Interesting_. 

Raising an eyebrow at Logan, she pushes all her chips into the middle of the table. He follows her lead and Wallace sits down, avidly watching. 

She deals herself three diamonds (the four, the six, and the seven) and decides to try for a straight or a flush. Logan doesn’t even bother to bet, just asks her for three cards. She deals them out to him and takes two for herself. She peeks at her cards—the three of diamonds and the five of spades. 

Veronica’s sitting on a straight— _not bad_ . But she’s just one card away from a straight flush, or, she consoles herself, just one diamond away from a flush, which beats her straight. It’s a huge gamble, but Logan’s eyes twinkle as he asks for one more card. _Why not? Live on the edge, Veronica_. She also takes one more. 

And has to stop from visibly celebrating at the five of diamonds. 

Logan smirks as he lays his cards on the table. Four queens and the ten of hearts. 

“Four of a kind is a good hand.” She pouts but then turns her lips up in a wide grin, showing her cards. “But not as good as my straight flush.”

Logan’s face goes slack and his mouth drops open. Wallace whoops in delight, waking Dick, and Weevil mutters, “Damn, girl.”

“It would seem I’m both lucky at cards and lucky in love.” Veronica smirks, stressing the word _lucky_ and watches the lust cloud Logan’s eyes. 

_Yes, this is going to be fun tonight._

“Ugh, I can’t handle this anymore.” Wallace stands, pushing his chair in. “You guys are gross.”

Puckering up, Logan leans over the table. “I can’t believe you beat me. Soothe my hurt feelings?”

Giving in, Veronica allows him a quick peck on the lips, promising more later with her eyes. She stands, stretches her arms wide—enjoys Logan’s eyes on her breasts as she does so—and snags a chocolate chip cookie off the bar. 

“Hey, Jackie, I could use some air. Wanna join me?”

“Sounds great.” Jackie drains her beer and sets the bottle on her table with a thud. “This room’s too full of testosterone anyway.” 

She glares at Weevil, Logan, and Wallace but playfully; there’s no venom in her gaze. She saunters over to Veronica and follows her upstairs, where they let themselves outside into Dick’s backyard. 

Wrapping her arms around herself against the evening chill, Veronica says, “So what did you want to talk to me about?”

Jackie sinks down onto one of the poolside lounge chairs. “I need your help, Veronica.”

Veronica sits down next to her. “It’s what I do.”

Taking a deep breath, Jackie looks down at her hands, twisting them together. “I have a son.”

She tries to channel her excellent poker face from earlier. Thankfully, the darkness outside helps hide her surprise. Jackie goes on. 

“Only four people in Neptune know, now. You, my dad, Logan, and Weevil. I wanted a fresh start here but…” She clears her throat. “He’s two. I left him back in New York with my mom and…”

Her voice is thick with tears. Veronica grabs her hand and squeezes, reassuring. 

“I’ve been a terrible mom. What kind of woman abandons her child?”

Veronica keeps silent, thinking of her mother and her own abandonment issues. She doesn’t know what to say. Jackie swipes at the tears on her cheeks. 

“But I want to do better. After everything with Meg...well, it got me thinking. I want Alex to come live in Neptune with me. But his father…I wouldn’t tell anyone at the time who it was. I thought it would be simpler that way. But I want to bring Alex here and I want to do it right so I need his dad to sign away his rights. I’m sure he will, but, Veronica, will you help me track him down?”

Wordlessly, she pulls Jackie into a hug. “Of course I will. And I’ll help you with anything else after that, too with...with Alex. I mean, I’m a terrible babysitter but—”

Jackie laughs, cutting her off and breaking the tension. 

“Would you believe Logan said something similar? About helping, not about you being a bad babysitter,” she hurries to clarify. 

She thinks of Logan, of the makeshift family he’s created for himself. Of his fierce, protective love for the people he lets into his life. 

“I’m not even a little surprised. He’s kind of the best.”

Her thoughts shift to the things she wants to do with him tonight...his fingers tracing patterns on her skin, his tongue licking her flesh. She shivers, and this time it has nothing to do with the temperature outside. She didn’t need to make that bet to get what she wanted, but competition with Logan is just so damn fun. He gives as good as he gets and seems to enjoy it as much as she does. Thinking about it causes anticipation to build, throbbing between her thighs, and she decides not to wait another moment. They’re making senior memories, after all.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	12. Opportunity, Preparation, Reality

* * *

“You’ve reached Logan Echolls with today’s inspirational message. ‘Good luck is when opportunity meets preparation, while bad luck is when lack of preparation meets reality.’ Eliyahu Goldratt.”

* * *

 

###  **Logan**

“I don’t know why you won’t ride to school with me,” Logan complains as he and Weevil gather their books for class. 

“I always take my bike. Not gonna stop now.” Weevil shoves open the suite door and strides down the hall to the elevator. 

“But we’re going to the same place.” Logan catches up, jabbing at the down button.

“Sorry to disappoint.” 

He doesn’t sound sorry at all, and Logan  _ is _ disappointed. Driving alone is boring. They step onto the elevator and Logan suggests nonchalantly, “You can drive my car home.” 

Weevil expression turns considering and Logan holds his smug look back. 

_ Line cast, time to reel him in.  _

“Veronica is picking Jackie up to talk shop this morning then she’s got to meet her dad after school. I was going to drive Jackie home but… you could do it.” 

The elevator stops on 8, and a tiny, grandmotherly woman with a steel walker slowly boards. Logan and Weevil crowd to the left to make room. 

“Alright, Pretty Boy. But I drive now, too.” Weevil holds out his hand and Logan gives over the keys. At least he knows Weevil gives the Xterra the respect she deserves. He’s still grateful he never had to scrub blood out of the leather. 

“Want to pick up dinner, too?”  _ Hotel food is getting old.  _

“Sure. Mama Leone’s?” 

“Yeah,” Logan agrees. “You know my order. I should be home around five.” 

“Don’t forget it's laundry day tomorrow,” Weevil reminds him. It’s Logan’s turn to drop their laundry bag to Suds For Your Duds.

“Copy that.” Logan gives him a small salute, and the elevator pings announcing their arrival. 

“You two make such a sweet couple,” the old lady coos, and exits to the lobby. 

They stare after her in stunned horror until the elevator doors begin to close. 

Snapping out of it, Logan waves his hand between the sensors and they mutely move through the lobby, cross the parking lot, and climb into the Xterra.   

“We never tell anyone about that,” Weevil instructs, adjusting the driver’s seat, and Logan nods his agreement. 

The drive is silent and Logan tries not to sulk.  _ If he wanted half hour of no conversation he would have ridden alone.  _

With an exaggerated sigh, he takes out his phone. He already recorded his outgoing message, but, desperate times. 

“You’ve reached Logan Echolls with today’s inspirational quote. ‘Ultimately the bond of all companionship, whether in marriage or in friendship, is  _ conversation _ .’ Oscar Wilde.”

“You’re hilarious.” 

“I know.” Logan winks. “So, friend, let’s converse.” 

Weevil sighs. “What would you like to converse about...friend?” 

“That hurt?” Logan gestures towards the “Felix” tattoo on Weevil’s neck. Maybe he should consider getting one. A little magnifying glass on his left bicep would be appropriate.  

“Not as much as losing him.” Weevil replies seriously. 

After a moment’s hesitation Logan ventures, “I don’t think I ever said, but, I’m sorry for your loss, man.”

Weevil nods and swallows roughly, then clears his throat. 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. I know V has been focused on getting you off.”

Logan snorts and his lips quirk up in a lecherous grin. 

“Oh, she—”

“Like I was saying,” Weevil cuts him off, sending his eyes heavenwards before Logan can elaborate. “I know V was focused on your case, and I’m glad they dropped the charges.” 

“Why, Weevil, it’s so sweet of you to care.” 

Logan smirks at Weevil’s clenched jaw.  _ See? Much better than riding in silence.  _

“What I’m trying to say is, I know Thumper killed Felix. He’s gotta pay.” 

They pull into the Neptune High parking lot, and Logan gives Weevil a measured look. “Spell it out, friend.” 

“You know how this has gotta go, man. Thumper's gonna go down for what he did to Felix one of two ways. Either the law's gonna handle it, or I will. You and Blondie want it done right? Then help me get the proof.”

When he’s not in the wrong side of it, Logan admires Weevil’s Machiavellian sense of justice. 

“ Okay, just dont do anything stupid. I’ll talk to Veronica and we’ll get back to you.”

“Yeah, well, work quick, Pretty Boy. Patience isn’t my best virtue.” 

* * *

**Veronica**

“Thanks for coming with me, Sugar Britches.” Veronica leans over the center console of her LeBaron and places a quick kiss on his cheek. “I’m hoping we can make some progress for Weevil and find the witness to Felix’s murder.”

“And then you can reward my diligence by making out with me on the couch?” He bobs his eyebrows at her suggestively.

“I think not.” She gestures at the street  in front of the Mars Investigations office. “My dad is there.”

Sighing, Logan exits his vehicle. 

“Come on, it won’t be that bad.” 

He grabs her hand as they cross the street. “I’m feeling a little deprived, Pumpkin. Between your dad and my new roommate, it’s been too long.”

Veronica snorts at him. “I think you’ll live.” 

He scoops her up in his arms, spinning her around before depositing her on the sidewalk with a sweet kiss to her nose. “My house sale can’t go through fast enough.”

“I’m still mad I’m the only one who hasn’t seen it.” Veronica pushes open the street-level door and heads up the stairs to her dad’s office, with Logan following. “When is it my turn?”

“How about tomorrow? I’ll tell Vanessa to make it available.” He startles her with a love tap on her ass, making her jump as she walks into the red and gold sun-lit room. 

“Behave!” she mouths at him, turning around, before calling out, “Dad! We’re here!”

“Veronica! Perfect timing. Get in here, you need to see this.”

Grabbing Logan’s hand, she hustles into her dad’s inner office.    


“What’s wrong?”

Keith, seated at his desk, motions them over excitedly. Pulling Logan with her, they stand behind him, peering over his shoulder.

“I’ve been checking into Curly Moran’s financials and get this: I found a second bank account he used to pay his mortgage. It was under the name of Daniel Morgan.” He taps out a drumbeat on the desk. “And there was a deposit made to that account after the bus crash, right before Curly died.”

Veronica grips Logan’s hand tightly to stop her own from trembling. “You think he got paid to take out the bus?”

“I do.” 

Veronica’s heart races.  _ We might actually solve this thing _ . Adrenaline rushes through her body at the thought. 

“Can you figure out where the payment came from?” Logan asks, eyes wide.

Keith scans his computer screen, speaking slowly. “Eventually. It will take some digging.” 

Patting his shoulder, Veronica says, “I’m sure you can get to the bottom of it.”

“Of course I can. Who’s your daddy?” Keith teases her.

“Ugh, you’re—”

The sound of TLC’s ‘No Scrubs’ fills the air, cutting her off. Digging her phone out of her bag, she turns to Logan.

“Seriously? When did you get a hold of my phone to program in all these ringtones?”

He grins at her. “One of my many talents.”

“I’ve gotta take this.” She motions at the doorway and heads into the outer area. Her dad, focused on his research, just shoos her away. 

“Hey, Jackie. What’s up?” Veronica sits at her desk and grabs a pen and a pad of paper. Logan flops onto the couch along the wall. 

“Veronica… there’s something I need to tell you about Alex’s father.”

“Derek Kim. Not interested in parenting. Last known address Dumbo area of Brooklyn, NY. What else you got for me?”  Her pen is poised over the paper. She watches Logan, who’s still lying on the couch but has found a stress ball to toss in the air over his head. Toss, catch, toss, catch, toss, catch. His arm arcs up in a long, soothing motion each time.

“Um.” 

Veronica picks up on Jackie’s hesitation and rushes to reassure her. 

“Jackie, this falls into the ‘favor for a friend’ category but you realize I’m gonna keep everything confidential, right? There’s no judgment here.” 

It must do the trick because Jackie takes an audible deep breath over the phone line. 

“Veronica...he’s not in high school. Hasn’t been for a while.”

Silence stretches between them for a beat while Veronica digests this. 

“Oh! Yeah, sure, okay. Uh, do you still think he’ll willingly sign the papers? If he’s got the means to care for a child, he might want to—“

“I’m pretty sure he’s married,” Jackie explains flatly. “So it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“Right, well, I’ll let you know when I find him and we can have Cliff draw up the paperwork.” 

“Okay, I’ll talk to you—”

“Wait, Jackie. I’m not trying to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong but…” Logan sits up now, obviously interested in her conversation. She stares determinedly at her desk, not meeting his gaze, and clears her throat. “New York has statutory rape laws, you could press charges. You were, what, fifteen or sixteen? I’m just—”

“I knew what I was doing, Veronica. It was definitely consensual and there was a reason I didn’t tell anyone who Alex’s father is.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I—” Logan comes to stand in front of her desk, his fingers flexing into fists. 

“I know,” Jackie cuts her off, her voice softening. “It’s nice to have friends who are looking out for me. Let me know what’s next. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

As she hangs up her phone, Logan pounces. “Is Jackie okay? Do you need—”

“Calm down, Rocky.” Veronica moves around her desk so she’s next to him and grabs his hands in her own. “I don’t think I need you to punch anyone yet but I’ll let you know if that changes.”

She pushes up on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I know Jackie has told you a little bit about this but she hired me—You have to let me take the lead.”

He sighs dramatically. “Didn’t I prove I trust you and I understand the confidentiality thing ?”

“Yes…but…” Veronica’s hesitant. “This time you know my client and obviously want to protect her. I know you trust me. I promise if I need your help, I’ll ask, okay?”

“Okay.” Logan nods and kisses her again. 

“I definitely need your help trying to prove Thumper killed Felix.” Shifting the focus onto something they can work on together, Veronica grabs her laptop from her bag and settles at her desk. Logan comes to lean over her shoulder, staring at the screen. 

“I don’t even know where to start,” he mutters.

“Well, someone called 9-1-1 that night,” she muses, “and we know it wasn’t Dr. Griffith. It would be really awesome if you remembered what this mysterious person looked like.”

Logan throws his hands up in frustration. “If I did, don’t you think I would have found them right away?”

“I know, Logan. I just—you gotta give me something to go on. Do you remember anything?”

He paces between the stained-glass window and the couch, rubbing the back of his neck. Veronica bites her lip.  _ Maybe she can call Leo, try to get a copy of the 9-1-1 recording… _

“Let’s start with what you do remember from that night. That might help,” she presses. 

Logan stops in his tracks and turns to face her, anguish in his eyes. “Veronica, it was probably the worst night of my life. Although there were a lot of bad nights for a while, I guess it’s hard to pick one.”

He sinks down onto the couch, staring at his hands between his knees. She didn’t think about what she’s asking him to relive. Hopping up, she comes to sit by him, lacing their fingers together. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. 

Logan doesn’t look at her but inspects their clasped hands as he speaks. 

“I was in my car when I heard...the news on the radio. And I couldn’t stop thinking about my mom. I just wondered...how much did she know? Did she suspect? Is that why she…?”

_ Jumped _ ?

He trails off but Veronica’s mind fills in the word anyway. 

“So I wanted to feel close to her, I guess, that’s why I was on the bridge.” Rubbing his thumb over the back of Veronica’s hand, he clears his throat. “This is where things get a little fuzzy. I remember staring at the water, hearing the motorcycles behind me. I knocked out Weevil. Then they pulled me down and it’s pretty much a blur. I, I opened my eyes and I’m lying on the bridge, a dead biker in front of me, knife in my hand. I got up, threw it in the ocean—I remember thinking it was joining my mother—and drove to your house.”

She sits in silence and squeezes his fingers. If it were anyone else, she’d keep interrogating but….

_ Cowboy up, Mars. Ask the hard questions _ .

“Think harder.”

His eyes meet hers in disbelief and he drops her hand to pace again. She lets him go. 

“What else do you remember about Felix’s body? What did you see?”

A bitter laugh escapes him. “God, Veronica, you’re—”

Logan halts.  “Headlights, really bright ones, like….”  He snaps his fingers. “There was a truck.”

“What kind? What color? What did it remind you of?”

His gaze locks onto hers as he processes her litany of questions. “ Um…It looked like one of the delivery trucks my mom’s catering company uses.”

“Okay, that, I can work with.” Veronica jumps off the couch and heads for her computer, typing furiously. After all that, she hopes this lead pans out. “Sorry for…”

“It’s okay.” 

Logan broods, staring out the window at the street, making her think it’s not.

After doing a little research, she beckons him over. “Come here.” Grabbing his shirt, she tugs his mouth to hers and reassures him with a kiss. “I really am sorry,” she murmurs against his mouth. 

Logan deepens the kiss, slides his tongue into her mouth, turns her insides to jelly. When he pulls away, she’s panting. 

“I know.” The light is back in his eyes. “A lot has changed since then.”

He straightens to peer over her shoulder, leaning close, his breath warm against her neck.

“What did you find?”

Her body is still thrumming from that kiss but she forces herself to focus. 

“Okay, I looked up delivery routes that use the Coronado Bridge and narrowed it down to five trucks in route at the time. It could be—”

“The San Diego Seafood Company,” Logan cuts her off, pointing to the list on the screen. “I remember! It was ironic because there were so many ways I thought I was going to die that night.”

He laughs at his own dark joke while she rolls her eyes, glad the heavy mood from earlier has lifted. 

“I’m glad you think it’s funny now.”

Logan shrugs in response. “So what’s next? Can we find out who was driving that route at the time?”

Veronica taps her chin. “It’s certainly worth a phone call. But,” she eyes the clock, “I’ll have to try later, during business hours.” 

“What will we do in the meantime?” He skims a hand down her back and she shivers. 

“I’ve got some ideas.” Standing, she wraps her arms around him, pressing another soft kiss to his lips before glancing in the direction of her dad’s office. “Wanna find a place to park for a few minutes on the way home? As a reward for all your hard work? I don’t think he’ll notice.”

“Come on, Bobcat. We’ll take the backstreets.”

* * *

 

**Logan**

Logan spies Veronica and Mac as they walk towards their lunch table. Skipping forward to catch up, he hugs her around her middle, halting their progress. 

“Sweet Cheeks, I have a surprise for you!”

She turns and wraps her arms around his neck. “Yes, Lovebug?” 

“We’re gonna meet Vanessa after school today. You get to see my house!” 

“Goody!” Veronica claps her hands together, then makes a show of looking around, whispering,  “Did you bring me piano wire, too?”

Mac shakes her head at Logan. “You sure about this?” 

Veronica chuckles. “I’ll behave.” Her expression turns solemn. “I’m excited to see your house, Logan, I promise.”

He kisses her forehead. “I know you are, baby.” 

 

After school, they head straight over to Logan's new house. The generic T-Mobile ringtone sounds as Logan pulls next to Vanessa’s silver Mercedes in the driveway. He gives Vanessa a “hold on” gesture through the window and blinks when Veronica snatches the phone out of his hand before he can answer it. 

“Jake Kane,” she reads aloud, and magnanimously hands it back to him. 

“Thanks.” 

“No problem, Doll Face!” 

With a roll of his eyes, Logan answers. “Hello, Mr. Kane.” 

“Speaker.” Veronica whispers. 

“Hello, Logan. How are you?” 

“I’m good. Mr. Kane, what can I do for you?” 

“Speaker!” 

Mr. Kane sighs. “I understand you and Duncan had another altercation.” 

Veronica prods his shoulder. “Logan, speaker!” 

Logan covers the mouthpiece to shush Veronica before returning to his phone call. She pouts and slouches into the passenger seat. 

“We did.” He’s not about to apologize for punching Duncan. 

“And from what I gathered, it had something to with Veronica.” 

His voice hardens. “It did.” 

Veronica drums her nails on the center console. 

“I wanted to tell you personally, Duncan won’t be a problem for either of you anymore.” 

_ Interesting _ . “And why’s that?” 

“Celeste and I decided it would be prudent to relocate him to Napa for the remainder of the school year. He leaves tonight.” Jake sounds exhausted, and Logan can’t help but feel sorry for the man. 

“That...seems wise.” And a relief.  _ He can’t have people popping up and calling Veronica a bitch. He’ll end up in jail.  _

Veronica gives up all pretense of whispering. “What’s going on?” 

“I’ll let you go. Take care of yourself, Logan.” 

“Bye, Mr. Kane.” 

Logan hangs up and stares out of the car window. He’s startled out of his moment of reflection when Veronica slaps his arm. 

“Ouch!”

“What  _ was _ that?” 

Logan lets his eyes go wide. “What was what?”

She hits him again, and he snickers.  _ Riling her up is so much fun.  _

“Relax, Buttercup, just Jake Kane doing damage control.”

“Duncan?” Veronica guesses, then smirks. “How’s his nose?” 

Logan reaches over the console and cups her head, bringing her in for a searing kiss.  _ That little vicious streak always turns him on.  _

“Don’t know about nose,” he settles back in his seat, “but the Kanes are sending him to Napa. He won’t even finish out the school year here.” 

“Did Jake ask about Meg?” Veronica worries. 

“Nope, not a word.” 

She frowns. “I wonder why Duncan was suddenly interested in Meg.”

“Who knows, but he’ll never find her. Especially not from Napa.” 

_ And he’s out of our lives, can we please leave it alo— _

“Still, I should warn her. Maybe I’ll—“

“Have Mac send her an encrypted email?” He leans over and kisses her temple. “Excellent idea.” 

“You and Wallace ruin all my fun,” she grumbles as she gets out of the car. 

Logan shrugs and follows her. Since her idea of fun is infiltrating biker bars, her grousing doesn’t bother him. 

They get out of the car and approach Vanessa, who’s waiting by the already opened door, jingling the keys, irritation plain on her face. Her gaze lands on Veronica and her lip curls. Vanessa’s features smooth as she focuses her attention on Logan. 

“Logan! I’m glad you called. This must be your sister.” 

_ Uh-oh. _ He feels Veronica bristle beside him. 

“This is Veronica.” He takes hold of Veronica’s hand, kisses her knuckles. “My girlfriend.”

“Oh.  _ This _ is Veronica?” Vanessa assesses Veronica from her combat boots and jean skirt to her spunky ponytail.“I thought she’d be taller.” 

Veronica growls. His Bobcat knows what that sound does to him. 

“You can go.” Logan dismisses Vanessa and plucks the keys out of her hand, dragging Veronica inside the house. 

“But—” Vanessa sputters. 

“We’ll lock up behind us.” Logan closes the door in Vanessa’s shocked face. 

When he turns around Veronica launches herself at him, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing him. 

He matches her enthusiasm eagerly, struggling to get her shirt over her head without breaking their kiss. 

She pulls away. “Logan, not here.” 

He looks around the foyer. She’s right, they can’t do this here. 

“There are five bedrooms,” he informs her helpfully, and starts kissing her again. 

She laughs against his mouth, and breaks away again. 

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. This house doesn’t belong to you yet.” 

“Technically true. But when you think about it, it’s not that different from a hotel suite.”

“And we can make use of that hotel suite later. For now, give me the tour.” She wiggles to get down, and he reluctantly helps her to the floor. 

“Let’s start upstairs.” 

She crosses her arms in front of her and gives him a chiding look.

“Not for  _ that  _ reason. Get your mind out of the gutter, Veronica.” 

She sputters at him as he leads her up the spiral staircase. He shows her the guest bedrooms, including the ones he’s earmarked for Jackie and Alex, should they need it, and then hustles her to the master. 

Veronica wanders around the room, running her hand along the mahogany fireplace mantle, pausing at the window to take in the ocean view. The glass is one-way, but he doesn’t think she knows that and she’s been awfully bold lately...

Logan comes up behind her, pressing his body to her. Pulling her V-neck t-shirt to the side, he grazes her collar bone with his teeth, and purrs in her ear, “Do you like it, Bobcat? We’re going to spend a lot of time here.” 

She tilts her head, giving him further access, and he takes advantage, sucking lightly on her neck the way she likes it. When she grinds against him, he holds her hips still. He thumbs small circles just under the waistband of her skirt. 

He can see her reflection in the glass, watching him, lips slightly parted. 

“What do you see?” he asked, kissing behind her ear. Her lids flutter closed and she leans back against him. 

His hand slides beneath the waist of her skirt and she moans. She grips his wrist, halting his downward progression. His fingers stretch and flirt with the edge of her underwear. Her breath hitches and her eyes open, glued to their reflection in the window. 

“Baby, tell me what you see.” 

She releases his wrist, and her gaze, full of permission and promise, meet his in the glass. “You. I only see you.” 

He growls and glides his hand in between her legs, cupping her, palm pressing against her clit, muttering, “Jesus, Veronica. You’re so wet.” 

“Logan,” she moans as her legs part slightly, “We should move away from the window.”

“Why?” He slides two digits into her, moves them in and out slowly.  

“Vanessa…” She breathlessly reminds him, grinding against his palm.

“Is gone.” He guides her palm to her breast, covers it with his, squeezing his encouragement. With a groan she pulls at her nipple through the material of her shirt. It’s magic how she’s always braless when he needs her to be.

He skims his hand down her side, then grips her hip while he continues moving his fingers in and out of her. She’s pressing against his palm now and he groans in her ear. Her face is flushed and she can’t tear her eyes away from their reflection.

He needs more, needs to feel her, all of her. He lifts her skirt, fisting it in front of her. 

“Hold this.” 

She holds it up with one hand, still kneading her breast with other, while she tracks his every move. 

As fast as he can he pulls a condom from his wallet and strips from the waist down. Once he’s ensured they’re protected, he positions himself behind her, and pauses. 

She gives a slight nod, and with a groan he pulls her underwear aside and sinks into her.

She hisses at the contact and slams her palms against the window. He pauses for a moment, savoring the sensation. Nothing feels as good as she does. Nothing. Then he slides his hand back under her skirt.

“The neighbors?” She rasps out, one last token protest. 

He moves, firm and steady strokes inside of her, while he circles her swollen clit. “There are no neighbors close enough to see. No one to see you pressed against the glass with your skirt around your waist, your underwear pushed aside, while I fuck you from behind.” 

She whimpers and meets his thrusts eagerly. 

“You can be as loud as you want, baby.”  He’s panting now, stoking her higher. “No one will hear you scream while you’re coming on my cock.”

Garbled sounds come from her throat and he pistons into her, his heartbeat matching the crazed rhythm. 

Finally, he feels the orgasm rip through her, and she sobs his name. Her body sags, her hands slippery on the window. He thrusts one, two, three more times as she pulses around him and he finishes, crying out her name, crushing her to him as he comes.

They take a few moments to recover, panting against each other, before straightening their clothes. Logan ties off the condom and shoves it into his pocket with a philosophical shrug. 

Presentable again, he holds out his hand to her as they exit the bedroom. 

She leans up and kisses his check. “You make an excellent tour guide. This is definitely my favorite room.”

He sends her a lecherous grin. "Wait til you see the pool house."

* * *

 

**Veronica**

The following afternoon, Veronica pushes open the door to Cliff’s inner office and motions Jackie to follow her. 

“Jackie, this is Cliff McCormack, attorney at law.” She gestures between the two. “Cliff, my friend Jackie Cook.”

Cliff stands up behind his desk and smooths his ugly brown tie, then holds out his hand to Jackie. “Charmed.”

Veronica manages to contain her eye roll as she sits down across from him. Jackie takes the seat next to her, shooting her a concerned look, and Cliff rifles through the sizable pile of paperwork on his desk. 

“He’s really not that bad,” Veronica whispers. Cliff ignores her.

“Ah, yes, for Ms. Cook, the form for sole custody, and the voluntary termination of parental rights paperwork. I need you to sign here and here.” He indicates Xs for Jackie’s signature and hands her a pen. “Excellent. Then we’ll send them via courier to Derek Kim and I will let you know when everything is returned to me.”

Jackie’s eyes are wide. “That’s, that’s it?”

“For now. I’ll be in touch. And V,” Cliff turns to her. “I’m only charging her expenses, not my time. You owe me.”

“Yeah, a favor, I know. I’m good for it.”

Standing, she pulls Jackie up with her and gives Cliff a finger wave. “Tootles!”

Jackie doesnt say anything as they get back into Veronica’s car, just stares vacantly out the windshield. 

“I know he seems...well...unreliable but Cliff is actually a pretty great guy. He doesn’t want anyone to know,” Veronica prattles as she starts the car and pulls out of the strip mall parking lot. “He’s really…” 

But Jackie stares out the window, pale under her dark complexion. Putting her hand on Jackie’s arm, Veronica glances over at her still silent friend.  _ It’s gonna be okay _ or  _ You’re doing the right thing _ both ring hollow. So she goes with, “How are you feeling about everything?” 

Jackie’s voice is shaky as she answers. “I don’t know. I think it all kind of hit me at once. I just—I was convinced this was what I needed to do...and now...what if he hates me, Veronica?”

Veronica’s pretty sure Jackie isn’t talking about Derek Kim. She doesn’t know anything about two-year-olds, but she understands mommy issues in spades. 

“Do you love him?”

“So much.” Jackie’s eyes are bright with emotion. 

“And you’re gonna do everything you can to be there for him?”

She nods as her tears spill over. 

“It might be hard but I know you’ll be the mom he needs.”

“But kids need—”

“You know what I was thinking about the other day?” Veronica cuts her off, checking her mirrors. Jackie shakes her head, no, and swipes at her eyes. “I was thinking about Logan and how he’s basically created a family for himself. You, me, Mac, Dick, Cassidy, Wallace. Even Weevil. Yeah, kids do need a lot. I can’t even imagine. But there are a lot of us so…I think Alex will like being a part of our family.”

“Thanks, Veronica.” 

She pretends not to notice the tears still falling down Jackie’s cheeks and clears her throat. 

“I couldn’t help but wonder…. The story you sold when you first came to Neptune doesn’t exactly match what I learned…”

“Oh. You picked up on that?”

“Yeah. You told all those tales about the swanky parties you went to in Greenwich Village. But really, you were in Brooklyn the whole time.” Veronica raises an eyebrow in Jackie’s direction, still keeping an eye on the road. 

Jackie sighs. “I thought I’d fit in better at Neptune if I pretended to be rich, the daughter of a model. My mom actually waits tables and cleans a Wall Street office at night. Little did I know the people who would end up mattering to me here don’t care.”

“Did you know, in Logan’s house—”

“The bedrooms for me and Alex? He showed me.” She smiles and the light reappears in her eyes. “He’s pretty great, Veronica.”

“I think so, too.” She can’t stop from smiling at the thought of Logan, either. 

“So are you moving in with him next year? We’ll be one big wacky sitcom family?”

Veronica shrugs, thinking back over Logan’s comment yesterday about her spending a lot of time in his bedroom. A full body shiver runs through her at the memory of what happened after. More of that sounds good but she’s pretty sure she’s not ready to move in with him. It feels like an awfully big step, not something she wants to do as a college freshman.

“We haven’t really talked about it, but no, I don’t think so. I doubt my dad would go for it and I’m...no.”

“My dad’s gone a lot, I’m not sure living at his place is the right call for me and Alex. But, Veronica, we don’t have to move in with Logan, either. I mean—”

“No, Jackie, don’t say that. I understand if it doesn’t work out but he really is buying this house with you guys in mind and he’d be really sad if—” Something occurs to her. “Wait, are you saying that because you’re worried about living with my boyfriend?”

Huffing a laugh, Jackie says, “Well, yeah, a little bit. I know he said you guys talked about it but you’d be totally justified to think it’s weird and not want another girl living with your man.”

Veronica shrugs philosophically. “You’re right, there aren’t a lot of people I would trust. But I trust Logan and I trust you. You once compared your friendship with Logan to the way I feel about Wallace and I get that. But it’s cool of you to ask.”

Clearing her throat, she changes the subject. 

“How does your mom feel about everything with Alex?” Veronica read online about heated custody battles between parents and grandparents in this situation and she desperately hopes nothing like that will happen to her friend. Not after everything Jackie’s been through already.

“I’ve actually talked to her a lot lately.” Jackie gulps, serious again. “At first she was really worried—about Alex, about me not being able to handle things on my own. But I told her how you guys have helped me with everything and I think she gets it. She even mentioned potentially moving out here next year.” 

Veronica grabs her hand and squeezes. “I’m really proud of you. Alex is lucky to have you as a mom.”

“I don’t know about that. Motherhood at sixteen is not ideal for anyone. But thanks, Veronica, for helping me with all this.”

She smiles at Jackie. Revenge will never get old, but it feels good to help someone do the right thing. 

* * *

Lunch is almost over. Veronica’s next to Logan, surreptitiously rubbing his thigh under the table, enjoying the way he jumps and squirms when her hand ventures from his knee further up his leg. He’s going to grab her hand and stop her in a second, she can tell it’s coming, but until then, she likes tormenting him. The weak winter sun feels good on the back of her neck but she pulls her denim jacket tighter around her body, wishing it were warmer. Southern California is lovely all year round but it’s December, after all. 

They ordered Chinese food for lunch and Logan’s only eaten half of his eggroll. Leaving anything on his plate is practically an invitation to share. Squeezing his thigh, hard, Veronica distracts him so she can steal a bite. 

“Hey now! What was that?” His eyes narrow but she smiles at him.

“You know you wanted to give that to me, you just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”

“I want to give you something, that’s for sure.” He swoops over and places a kiss on her neck.

Laughing, Veronica says, “How do you manage to make everything sound dirty?”

“Lots of practice,” Logan whispers, tickling her ear and nipping at her neck again.

“Seriously, guys?” Jackie glares at them across the table. “People are trying to eat here.”

“Yeah, you need to get a room,” Mac complains, grabbing her empty container of food and standing. “Are you done?” 

At Cassidy’s nod, she takes his container, too, and heads over to the trash can. 

“Would you believe I already have a room? And I’m trying to purchase more? I just can’t seem to—ooof.”

Veronica elbows him, cutting him off whatever inappropriate response he was undoubtedly about to make. 

“Maybe I should rethink moving in with you.” Jackie wrinkles her nose. “I didn’t account for all the PDA. I might have to bleach my eyeballs.”

“Ew, yeah.” Wallace makes a face. “You’re gonna need a safe word for sure.”

Logan shrugs. “The price you pay, I guess, Cook.”

Cassidy smiles at their antics. “Still worth it, Jackie?”

“We’ll see.” Her words are ominous but she grins at Logan. Veronica is glad she got to reassure Jackie yesterday. It wouldn’t work for everyone but she thinks it could be good for all of them if Jackie and Alex move in with Logan. 

“Hey, man, why don’t I have a room in your new place?” Dick complains.

“Because he doesn’t want to own a frat house?” Jackie offers.

Dick shakes his hair out of his eyes. “Fair enough. I can’t wait to join a frat in college. I mean, I was practically made for sorority girls.”

“Just where do you plan on going, Dick?” Veronica teases him across Logan. “You’ve gotta pass high school and get accepted. You know that, right?”

“Oh, it’s easy, Ronnie. I’m gonna tape some hundos to my applications.” 

She rolls her eyes.  _ Too bad Dick’s solution of throwing money at problems isn’t available to us all.  _

“Jellybean.” Veronica turns to Logan. “I meant to tell you. I called the San Diego Seafood Company yesterday but I couldn’t get any information on our route driver. I think we’re gonna have to try an old-fashioned steak-out.”

“Oh, sounds sexy.” Logan rubs his hands together and raises his eyebrows at her. “Just like in the movies.”

_ It’s really not _ .

“Echolls, do you ever think about anything else?”  Wallace  shakes his head and  stands up from the table before patting his belly. “ Thanks for lunch, though.  That was delicious.”

Grabbing his Gatorade bottle, Wallace executes a beautiful jump shot and tosses it into the trash can. With a laugh, Dick tries to do the same but misses. His plastic bottle clatters on the cement before shots ring out across the quad. 

Veronica’s pulse races as she and Logan quickly crouch on the ground by their lunch table. Students scream and scramble to take cover. Looking around frantically, she tries to take stock of her friends and figure out what’s going on. Logan attempts to shield her with his body but she angles around him because she can’t see and then grips his hand tightly, pressed to him.

She locks eyes with Jackie and Cassidy under the table. They appear unharmed. Wallace and Dick managed to get behind the table next to theirs but she doesn’t see Mac. Veronica tries to keep her head down and account for everyone at the same time when another shot is fired. She can’t figure out where the shots are coming from to formulate a plan. Clearly, they need to get help as soon as possible. The smell of gunpowder lingers in the air and a student is still screaming. Veronica’s shaking and behind her someone is sobbing. 

Lucky Dohanic, the creepy janitor who used to buy kegs for Logan, climbs on an empty table in the middle of the quad. Logan grabs her and tries to push her underneath him, covering her head. 

“Shut up!” Lucky yells at the shrieking student, firing another bullet into the air. “Look at this.” 

He gestures with his handgun at Dick’s water bottle, lying next to the trash can, and that’s when Veronica spots Mac. Across the quad, kneeling by the trash can, her Chinese carton abandoned on the ground next to her, Mac surreptitiously pulls her cell phone from her purse and starts to call for help. 

“You’re like animals!” Lucky shouts. “Somebody’s gotta clean this up, you know. But not me, not anymore. No, I’m getting out of here for good. I got money in my pocket and—”

He breaks off, spinning and pointing his gun straight at Mac. The sound of the buttons on her phone must have alerted him. Cassidy scrambles under the table, clearly wanting to get to her, but Logan blocks him from moving. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lucky yells. 

Mac tosses her phone at him and throws her hands up in surrender. 

“Nuh-nothing,” she stammers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I thought—”

But Lucky makes a slow circle on the table top, no longer interested in Mac, as he scans the crowd. He stops, gun pointed straight at their table. Veronica’s fingers dig into Logan’s arm as he tries to place himself in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, someone moves slowly, low to the ground, trying to get in position to take out Lucky. When she realizes it’s Wallace she covers her mouth to keep from crying out. A whimper escapes her lips. 

“You two. You’ll do nicely. Stand up.” Lucky motions at Logan and Veronica with his gun.

“No, man. Look, it’s okay.” Logan stands, blocking Veronica. He holds his empty hands out, palms up, placating. His voice is shaking but she recognizes the tone he uses when he’s trying to sooth. “I’ll do whatever you want but Veronica can stay on the ground, okay? She couldn’t hurt anyone, she’s not a threat.” 

“That’s not what I heard.” Lucky’s voice is harsh. “Stand up, Veronica.”

Her breath comes in pants and her shaking legs barely hold her as she stands next to Logan, gripping him tightly. 

“I don’t know what this is about, but we can help you,” she pleads. “You don’t have to do this.”

Lucky keeps his gun trained on them. “Yes, I do.”

Veronica very carefully doesn’t look at Wallace, creeping towards Lucky. She doesn’t want to do anything to draw attention to him. She can’t take her eyes off the gun pointed at her head anyway.

Why does it feel like they are being targeted? What have they done to piss off Lucky so badly he wants to kill them?

It hits her like a ton of bricks. Her knees weaken and she sways against Logan. He puts his arm around her, holding her upright. 

”We’re the targets,” she whispers.

But Logan doesn’t hear her. “Whatever you want, man, I can—”

“Nope.”

So fast she can barely process it all, Lucky pulls the trigger. Wallace slams into him from the side, tackling him to the ground, and she experiences a sharp, burning pain in her arm. Lucky’s gun falls out of his hand and clatters out of reach.

Dick rushes to Wallace’s side to help subdue Lucky as Veronica sags into Logan. Grabbing her left arm, she’s surprised her sleeve is wet. Her hand comes away red with blood. 

“Logan,” she whispers, sliding down his body to slump on the ground. The pain sets in now, searing and cold at the same time. Her vision darkens at the edges, she’s going to pass out soon. Logan’s face swims above her and her ears buzz. 

“Veronica! Veronica!” His mouth is moving like he’s yelling but he sounds far away. He lifts her head off the cement, cradling her in his arms. “Baby, I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be fine. Veronica, stay with me!” 

“We’re the targets. Of everything,” she tries to tell him as her world fades away, consumed by blackness. 


	13. Chapter 13

* * *

“You’ve reached Logan Echolls.”

* * *

**Logan**

From his periphery Logan sees Lucky go down, and pop back up. He hears the scuffle and a single gunshot. He has the vague impression of mass chaos. But the information ricochettes in his brain, never gelling into comprehension, because all he can see, all he can process is his heart bleeding out on the dirty concrete of Neptune High. 

“Logan?” Mac shakes his shoulder. “Logan!” 

He manages to give Mac his attention, shifting his gaze between her and Veronica. Mac speaks slowly, as if talking to a small child. 

“Logan. They called an ambulance, okay? Help is coming.” 

_ Ambulance...square...white...siren on top...they call an ambulance when someone is hurt or dying— _

He knocks Mac’s hand off his shoulder and scoops Veronica’s lifeless form off the ground, striding towards the parking lot. 

Dick steps in his path, but Logan keeps plowing forward. 

Jumping out of the way, Dick scurries to keep pace, shouting, “I’ll drive. You take care of Ronnie.” 

Logan throws Dick his car keys without breaking his stride. 

Dick remote-opens the Xterra doors as they approach, and Logan climbs into the backseat, holding Veronica in his lap, resting her head on his chest. 

_ Why won’t she wake up?  _

As Dick starts the car, Veronica’s messenger bag lands next to Logan with a thump. Mac’s head appears through the door. “Wallet. ID. Insurance.” She slams the door, yelling, “Go!” 

The tires squeal as Dick reverses. Veronica stirs, her eyes flutter open and she squints at the ceiling.

“Leather...” 

_ What is she talking about? Did she hit her head?  _ Logan frowns and examines her pupil size. 

When he doesn’t respond, she struggles to sit up. 

Alarmed, he soothes her back down. “Shhh. It’s okay, baby.” 

That seems to satisfy her because she sighs and her lids close. 

Logan slumps back in the seat. Cradling her in the crook of his shoulder, he holds her steady and reaches for her bag with his other hand. Digging through the contents his fingers close around her cell phone. He pulls it out and speed dials ‘2.’ His phone vibrates in his pocket. He doesn’t even know when she changed it. With a strangled sob he hangs up and tries 3. 

“Hi, honey!” 

“Mr. Mars, you need to get to Neptune Memorial.” 

——-

When they arrive at the hospital, Logan runs out of the car, carrying Veronica through the ER doors before Dick can fully pull to a stop. 

“She’s been shot!” 

Nurses clamor before them and instruct Logan to place her on the stretcher. He knows he has to put her down, but he can’t get his body to comply. 

“Sir? You have to let us take care of her,” someone urges him. 

_ Take care of her? But that’s his job.  _

“Sir?” The insistent voice comes again. 

Shaking off his hesitation, Logan gently kisses her forehead and lays her on the stretcher. They whisk her through a pair of double doors and all he can do is stare after them. 

A nurse tries to get his attention, waving around paperwork and yammering. She tries prodding him, snapping her fingers in front of his face. But he continues to stare at those doors because if he stands there long enough, someone will materialize and tell him she’s going to be—

“—fine. Dude, are you listening? I know it looked bad, she was all pale and bleeding and shit, but she’s going to be fine. Ronnie’s tougher than all of us.” 

In a daze, Logan takes his cell phone from his pocket and scrolls to the text message he never deleted.  **She’s fine.** He wills himself to believe it. 

Once Mr. Mars arrives and the paperwork is filled out, the only thing left to do is wait. Logan sits next to Veronica’s father and there’s complete accord in their silence. Any speech would be inconsequential, so no one bothers. For the first time in his life Logan feels a kinship with an adult.

Occasionally Dick disappears and returns with coffee, sometimes food. Logan has a vague impression of Dick making phone calls and assumes he’s keeping their friends up to date. But for the most part the three men sit in tiny wooden chairs and wait for someone to come tell them their future. 

The doctor finally arrives and announces that the injury is the best case scenario. Straight through the flesh. Equivalent to a puncture wound. Her tone is pleasant, upbeat, and completely incongruous to the panic coursing through Logan’s veins. 

They’re starting Veronica on antibiotics and keeping her overnight for observation. Barring any complications, she’ll be released in the morning. His anxiety recedes slightly at her words, and he’s able to take a deep breath for what feels like the first time since lunch. 

Dick offers to drive Logan back to the Grand, and Logan stares at him blankly until Mr. Mars intervenes. 

“Go on back, Dick. Logan can stay until visiting hours are over and take my car back to the apartment, stay with Backup.”

Logan thinks of walking into the room where she said I love you. Of laying on the sheets where she chanted it so he’d know it was true, and he wills himself not to cry. Swallowing the tears back, he nods gratefully to Keith. 

Keith’s own eyes are glassy, and his face holds a look of utter comprehension. He places a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Why don’t you pack a bag, stay with us for a few days?”

Logan clears his throat. “Thank you, Sir.” 

——

“Logan, can you get a garbage bag so Veronica can take a shower?” Keith asks from the doorway of Veronica’s bedroom.

“Dad,” Veronica protests. “It’s fine. I can keep my arm out of the water.” 

Keith rolls his eyes. Veronica’s been home for 60 minutes and she’s complained for 58 of them. She does  _ not  _ make a good patient. 

“On it, Mr. Mars.” Logan leaves his post next to Veronica’s bed to fetch the…  _ garbage bag? _ He hesitates on his way out.

“In the kitchen, son.” 

Logan nods his thanks to Keith as the man takes Logan’s place next to Veronica.

Halfway down the hall Logan turns back again and pokes his head through Veronica’s doorway. 

“Under the sink.”

Logan sends Keith a thumbs up and goes in search of water protection as Veronica grumbles, “I could have showered by now.” 

Logan rummages under the kitchen sink, and mentally runs over the doctor’s instructions. Cover the wound, change the dressing, watch for infection. Logan locates a garbage bag and wonders if they all smell like lemons. He’s never noticed before. 

The doorbell rings. Yelling, “One minute!” he jogs to Veronica’s room, drops off his delivery, then answers the door. 

“Hey, Pretty Boy, I have your stuff…. I never seen nobody organize their underwear by color before.” 

Logan reaches for the duffle bag Weevil holds out, gives him a one-armed man hug, and steps aside, gesturing for him to come in. 

“How’s V doing?” Weevil takes the couch and Logan stretches out in the striped chair, long legs extended.

“She’s okay, she’s taking a shower now.” 

“You’re not joking about being in there with her so she must be hurt.” 

Logan does a quick, frantic visual sweep of the room. He’s still breathing so Veronica’s dad must be busy getting her bandages ready. 

“Are you trying to get me shot at again?” 

Weevil smirks briefly, then sobers. He meets Logan’s gaze. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, man.” 

Logan reads the genuine distress on his friends face. “You know it’s not actually your job to protect me...us?”

“Tell that to Blondie.” Weevil mutters.

That’s fair. Logan’s certain that if he was the one that had been shot Veronica would be giving Weevil hell right about now. That shouldn’t make him smile, it really shouldn’t.

“Where were you, anyway?” he asks. 

“Looking for Thumper.” 

“Are you crazy?” Logan demands as he straightens in his chair. “Do you have a death wish or something? You said you’d give us a chance to prove he killed Felix. You’re not supposed to go looking for him, you jackass.” 

“Imagine. A jackass with a death wish.” They both jump at Veronica’s dry voice. 

She strolls in and sits on the couch. While Weevil gives her a careful hug, Logan examines her closely. She looks much better than she did this morning. Her skin is still pink from the shower and she’s wearing a suspiciously oversized, orange, long sleeved t-shirt to accommodate her bandage and her left arm is in a sling.  _ She’s adorable.  _

The warm whiffs of marshmallow soap that drift towards him make him instantly think of the last time he was a house guest. He shifts uncomfortably and tunes into Veronica and Weevil’s conversation. 

“... so I went looking for him, but he’s disappeared.” 

“Where do you think he is?” Veronica’s insatiably curious.

“If he’s smart, he’s long gone.”

“And if he’s not?” Logan’s betting Thumper’s not that clever.

“Then the Fitzpatricks took care of him. Either way, the PCHers want my help breaking away from the Micks. Seems they’re having some conflicts with Liam’s leadership style. Not really sure if I’m in a giving mood, so we’ll see.” 

Logan gets up, sits next to Veronica, then lifts her onto his lap. He wraps his arms around her waist, careful of her injured arm.  _ That’s better _ . 

“We need to talk about the Fitzpatricks.” Veronica sighs and leans back against his chest. “And we’re going to have to find the real witness.”

Another knock sounds at the door. “It’s open!” Logan yells. Veronica gives him a reproachful look. “What? We’re expecting Wallace.” 

Instead, Deputy Leo walks through the door. Weevil tenses, but Leo’s eyes are for Veronica alone. Leo moves to hug her, and Logan makes a low sound in his throat. Stopping short, Leo awkwardly pats her good shoulder. “I need to ask you some questions, Veronica. You up for it?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You can ask from over there.” Logan points to the chair he just vacated. 

Leo asks the standard questions: what happened, who shot her, why does she think he did it. Veronica answers calmly and evenly. No anger. No vows for revenge. Which means she’s lying about something. 

The inquiry seems proforma, Leo doesn’t even bother to jot down her answers. He’s winding down when Logan intervenes. 

“He’s in custody, isn’t he? I’m coming back to the station with you.” 

Weevil nods in agreement.

“Not gonna get your five minutes this time, kid.” Leo radiates condescension and Logan heroically manages not to punch him in the face.  _ If he’s a “kid” then what was Veronica when they dated a year ago? _

“I guess I could get myself arrested…”  _ How hard could that be? Maybe attack Leo’s car with a baseball bat? He’s almost always getting arrested anyway. He’s practically an expert. _

“You’d have to get yourself dead,” Leo informs them in a monotone. “Lucky’s in the morgue.” 

Keith Mars walks into the grim silence. He takes stock of the room’s occupants, lingering on Veronica and Logan’s familiar position. 

“Honey, don’t you know any girls?” 

“That’s my cue.” Leo heaves himself out of the chair, nods to Veronica's dad, and opens the door to find Wallace poised to knock on the other side. Leo greets Wallace as they trade places. 

“I’m out, too. Pretty Boy, V, Sheriff. I’ll see ya around.” 

Weevil and Wallace execute a three-part handshake as they pass each other and Logan has to bite back a grin at Veronica’s pout. 

While Weevil lets himself out, Veronica discreetly slides off Logan’s lap, sitting next to him. 

Wallace drops down onto the couch and puts an arm around Veronica and holds her close. 

“I’m okay, Papa Bear,” she whispers to him. Louder, she asks, “Are you okay?” 

Wallace is the one who tackled Lucky so he couldn’t do any more damage, which gave the school officer a chance to show up (a little too late in Logan’s opinion) and get a shot off. Based on their conversation with Leo, it sounds like Lucky didn’t make it.  _ Pity.  _

“I’m good, Supa—.” 

_ “Swallow it down (what a jagged little pill), it feels so good (swimming in your stomach…)”  _

Logan scrambles to shut off his phone alarm just as Keith’s phone alarm starts to blare.

Logan turns to Veronica. “Ba—Veronica, it’s time to take your pain medication.” Veronica motions to get off the couch and Logan puts a hand on her thigh to stop her, giving her a bewildered look. 

“Where are you going? I got it.” 

“No, I’ll get them.” But Keith doesn’t move right away and when Logan tears his eyes away from Veronica, the former sheriff studies him with an intensity that makes him uncomfortable. 

Veronica huffs. “Can I at least go to the bathroom by myself?” 

All three men look at her with uncertainty. 

“I’ll walk you there, honey.” Veronica rolls her eyes but accepts her father’s assistance.

Once they’re down the hall, Wallace turns to Logan. 

“How are you really doing, man? The last time she had a brush with death…”  

Wallace leaves the sentence unfinished but Logan understands his meaning. The last time he thought Veronica might be dead, he was ready to walk into the ocean and be done with it. This time though… when he was sitting in that hospital waiting room mentally playing the worst scenario possible, it didn’t even occur to him.

“I’m okay,” Logan meets Wallace’s assessing gaze. “Really.” 

Wallace claps his shoulder and lets it go at that, changing the subject. 

When Keith and a grumpy Veronica return, Wallace gets up. “I’m heading out. I have to watch Darrel while my mom packs. You guys leave tomorrow, right, Mr. Mars?” 

Logan shoots him a startled glance and notices Veronica does the same. 

“Yes, tell your mom I’ll be there at nine to pick her up.” 

“You got it.” Wallace hugs Veronica and helps her sit back down on the coach before performing his personalized handshake with Logan. 

“Alright, you two, now that we’re alone, we need to talk.” 

Veronica narrows her eyes. “What’s up, Dad?” 

“I have to spend a couple of days in NY meeting with my publishers. I wouldn’t go but they’re talking about an advance for my next book and we can use the money.” 

“It’s okay, Dad, I can—“

“So, Veronica, I want you to stay with—“

“Me. For as long as she needs to.” 

_ They can’t possibly look more shocked than he feels. But he’ll go crazy if he can’t take care of her, and Mr. Mars is going to check in too much for them to lie.  _

“I appreciate your concern, son, but that’s not happening.” 

“Mr. Mars, hear me out. Veronica’s a terrible patient.”

“Logan!” Veronica slaps his arm with her good hand.

“She is,” Keith agrees. 

“Dad!” Veronica gasps.

Logan squeezes her knee. They never officially worked out a code, but hopefully she gets the message to hush. 

“No one is going to take better care of her in your absence than me. She’s stubborn, but I heard all the doctor’s instructions first hand. And—“ Logan plays his trump card. “I know when she’s lying.” 

Keith’s eyebrows raise in interest as Veronica snorts in disbelief. 

“For example,” Logan turns to Veronica. “Did you take your pain meds or did you flush them down the toilet?”

“Veronica, is that true?” Keith demands.

Veronica glares at Logan, and he considers that he may have overstepped in his effort to convince her father. He reaches for her hand, and shifts so his back is to Keith. He can practically feel her father’s eyes on him, but he has to fix it. He knows why she doesn’t like drugs. 

“Baby, I’m sorry. And it’s fine if you don’t want to take the pills, but you have to tell us. How are we supposed to know what’s going on with you if you hide things from us?” 

Veronica gazes down at their joined hands. “I don’t want to take them. Not unless I have to, okay?”

“Okay. But you’ll tell me if it gets bad?” 

She meets his eyes. “I’ll tell you. I promise.”

Keith clears his throat and Logan and Veronica turn back to him. “Alright kids, I’m not sure if that little display made it better or worse, but Logan’s right. He’s probably one of the few people you can’t sweet talk or swindle.”

Logan blinks. If he didn’t know any better he’d think Veronica’s dad just called Logan her equal. 

“So,” Keith continues, “against my better judgement I’m going to let you stay with him. But there are going to be rules.” 

* * *

 

**Veronica**

“Veronica, I feel terrible about this. I can go later or maybe do it over the phone.” Her dad hesitates outside of Logan’s hotel room. 

“Dad.” She tries to be patient as she knocks on the door. “I know you’re worried about leaving me but I’m fine.” If she doesn’t get him out of her hair soon, she’s going to lose her mind. 

Logan throws open the door, cutting off any further protests her dad might make. His face is etched with relief. 

“Mr. Mars, I promise I will take the best care of Veronica. I listened to everything the doctors said and I won’t let her do anything she’s not allowed to. I’ve been paying attention at your house. You have my word.”

His face is serious as he solemnly shakes her dad’s hand. She rolls her eyes. Her wound is achy and itchy and the sling is pulling her shoulder. She’s tired of being treated like an invalid and she could use some chocolate.  _ Their ‘damsel in distress’ routine is beyond old. But if you want to stay here, you know better than to piss off Dad.  _

“See, Daddy? What did I tell you? The only person who will be more restrictive than you is Logan.”  _ But maybe with the right kind of persuasion, you can get him to chill. _ “I’ll be fine. Now, go.”

“Watch out, son. She’s grouchy,” he tells Logan before reminding Veronica to call him frequently, rest, and follow the doctor’s orders. After leveling another long look at Logan, Keith sets down her bag, kisses her forehead gently, and then turns back towards the elevator. 

Veronica moves past Logan into his living room. She wants to flop dramatically onto the couch and complain but flopping would hurt her arm. Settling for gingerly lying down on the couch, she inhales a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“Oh, god, he was driving me crazy after you came back here. He kept checking on me every five minutes. I couldn’t do anything by myself,” she moans. Surely Logan will calm down now that it’s just the two of them and he’s not trying to impress her dad with his caretaker routine. 

He kneels down next to her, stroking her hair. “What do you need? What can I get you?”

_ Space _ , she thinks.

But Logan proceeds over the next hour to smother her even more than her father. He walks her to the bathroom— “my legs are  _ fine” _ —and rushes over to her side every time she so much as winces. 

They are trying to watch a movie— _ Dude, Where’s My Car _ —and Logan insisted on opening her Skist for her, which she can totally do one-handed. She’s tried begging him and snapping at him but nothing seems to get through to him. She can’t take it anymore. 

“I think I’ve been inside too long. Can we get out of here?” 

“I don’t know, Veronica.” Logan’s forehead wrinkles in concern. “I think it might be easier if we stayed in.”

“But I’m so bored,” she whines. 

“Okay,” he nods diplomatically. “What if I invited everyone over?”

“Really?” Maybe if there were more people, Logan would be distracted enough that he’d take his eyes off her for more than five seconds. He wasn’t even watching the movie, just continually glancing over at her. “You’d do that for me?”

“Sure, anything you want!” 

_ Except independence _ , she thinks bitterly. 

Logan seems excited to have something to do, though, as he pulls out his phone and begins calling their friends and ordering a catering spread from the kitchen. 

“And chocolate,” she hisses, adding to his order. “Lots and lots of chocolate. Dark, if they have it.”

______

The piece of fudgy chocolate cake with thick dark chocolate frosting and raspberry sauce from room service helps, but it’s not enough. Even with all her friends around, Logan is still attached like a barnacle. Her entire body hurts. She can’t decide if she wants to scream or cry but she’s definitely at the end of her rope. 

After she snaps at Cassidy for handing her the fork she dropped, Jackie narrows her eyes and gently pulls Veronica and Mac out onto the balcony, instructing the boys to stay inside.

“Veronica, what’s your problem?” Jackie crosses her arms, waiting for an answer.

Veronica sighs. “I know. I’m being awful. But I haven’t had a moment alone since...well, I can’t remember. First my dad and now Logan, they won’t even give me space to breathe!”

Mac puts her hand on Veronica’s good arm. 

“Look, that was scary for everyone—you missed the aftermath, Bond—but Logan...I don’t know if they told you, but he wouldn’t wait for an ambulance. He picked you up off the ground and took you to the hospital himself.”

“Yeah, in the Xterra, I heard. I get it, I do. But if he does one more thing for me that I can do myself, I’m gonna lose my mind.” 

“No Veronica, you don’t get it. You bled all over his back seat and he didn’t even notice.” Jackie pauses to let that sink in. “Weevil took the Xterra to his uncle to get the blood out before Logan could freak out, but Logan never even checked.” 

_ His precious car _ . She knows she should be flattered but she can’t seem to make herself feel it. 

Veronica runs a frustrated hand through her hair, in loose waves today because she can’t style it one-handed. Even that annoys her, as strands brush her cheeks. 

“Yeah, but—”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mac offers. “It’s okay to be scared. I know I was.”

“No, thanks.” Veronica wishes she could cross her arms over her chest. She has to settle for clenching her fists.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to promise not to get hurt in any way out here,” Jackie waves her hand around, encompassing the balcony, “and we’re going to give you a little space and keep Logan and everyone else inside. Take a few minutes to yourself and come in when you’re ready to be nice to the people who are glad you’re alive.”

Sighing, Veronica nods and sinks down into one of the patio chairs. Jackie and Mac let themselves back inside and Veronica surveys the skyline view from the eleventh floor. Taking deep breaths, she lets the silence surround her, closing her eyes and tipping her head back. 

Mac’s words make her think. She doesn’t remember much about the shooting, just flashes, images her mind shies away from, and a feeling of terror she doesn’t like. Lucky’s actions were more than a random shooting, she’s sure of that, but…. She hadn’t been ready to talk about things with her dad or Logan yet, and she didn’t want to voice her concerns to Leo the other day, either. It was just a feeling of unease at that point, really. Common for victims, they told her at the hospital. Many people don’t remember the moments leading up to a traumatic event like this. The brain blocks it out. But as she allows her mind to remember the shooting, events start to click into place.

_ You’re the targets. _ The revelation comes back to her as she’s confronted by the memory of Lucky, standing on the table, gun pointed at them. 

Panic claws at her throat and her head swims. She tried to tell Logan that day in the quad but she must have passed out first and then her muddled mind forgot. Throwing open the patio door, she calls, “Logan! Can you come out here?”

Instead of Logan, Wallace appears. “Nuh-uh. None of your PDA out here while we’re in there.”

“No, it’s not like that—”

“Not gonna hear it. V, I gave you your space but I've barely even talked to you without getting yelled at. I didn’t like watching you bleed out on the quad anymore than Echolls. Get your butt in here and sit by me on the couch. No snuggling with your boy instead.” He wags his finger at her but he’s smiling, not really upset.

_ Wallace _ . Tears prick her eyes when she thinks about how he tackled Lucky. He saved her life. She can spare a few minutes for her BFF. 

“‘Bleed out’ is a little dramatic, Wallace. It’s just a scratch. Mostly thanks to you.” Wrapping her good arm around him, she gives him a firm squeeze. “Did I ever tell you you’re my hero?”

“How much pain medication are you on? If you start singing that girly crap, I’m outta here.”

“No singing, I promise. And no pain pills for me. Gotta stay sharp!” 

Though Wallace must suspect that she's just saying no to drugs because she doesn’t like feeling like she’s not in control, he wisely doesn’t mention it. 

Clearing his throat, he says, “You’d be safe here, you know, if you did need to take something. Nobody would let anything happen to you.”

“I know.” She stares at the concrete floor of the balcony.

“Plus, you’re worse than Oscar the Grouch. Maybe you need a chill pill.” He smiles at her fondly. 

“What I need is some ice cream. Sneak me out to Amy’s in the trunk of your car?” she begs.

“You just had cake!” 

“But that’s not the same as Amy’s. Please? Maraschino cherry on top?” Pulling an exaggerated face, she grabs his arm playfully.  

Wallace shakes his head. “And risk the Wrath of Echolls? No way, V.”

“Et tu, Wallace? I used to have friends.” She leans against him as they make their way inside. 

“That was a long time ago.”

———

Veronica fights impatience through the beginning of Legally Blonde. She needs to get Logan alone to talk to him but if her friends pick up on that, they’ll assume it’s for...other reasons and tease her mercilessly and probably stay longer on purpose. Trying to relax and enjoy herself, she sits by Wallace and can’t help laughing at the bend and snap, Lilly’s favorite part. 

As they watch, Veronica sinks into the couch. Wallace is solid, warm, and reassuring next to her. Everything that’s happened over the last few days starts to take a toll on her body. She desperately wants to stay awake until the movie is over and everyone has left but her eyelids get heavy. Forcing them back open when they slide shut, she does her best to hang on, but sleep wins as her head lulls against Wallace’s shoulder. 

She stirs when Logan says goodbye to their guests and is dimly aware of his strong arms circling her, cradling her close and carrying her to bed. It jostles her wound but his scent is so soothing that she quickly drifts back to sleep as he lays her carefully on her right side and wraps his body around hers.

Waking in the middle of the night, Veronica is ravenous. She sneaks out to the kitchen area and is pleased there’s still a bowl of popcorn out and chicken wings in the fridge left from their movie night. Grabbing a bottle of water, she helps herself to a snack, eating over the counter.

“Hey, where’d you go?” She whirls around at Logan’s sleepy voice. Mouth full of food, she swallows as he comes behind her, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her head. “It makes me sad when I wake up without you.”

“Sorry. I was hungry.”

He laughs against her hair. “Of course you were, Bobcat.” 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep earlier.”

“It’s no big deal. Everybody understood. We’re just glad you’re okay.” 

She leans her body weight against him, warm and full, content. She sighs, replete, and he seems to take it as a cue to start nuzzling her neck. Angling her head to give him better access, she growls as is teeth scrape gently across her sensitive skin. White hot need shoots through her and she shivers as heat gathers between her thighs.

Abruptly, Logan drops his arms and steps back. “Sorry, baby. Better get you back to bed.” His voice is rough with desire and there’s evidence of his arousal but... _ why is he walking away? _

Veronica grabs his arm and tugs. “Logan, what are you doing? Is there something wrong.”

“No, I just shouldn’t start something that I can’t, you know, finish. Let’s go to bed.”

“Yes, lets. I’m sure we’ll finish just fine.” On tiptoes, she twines her good arm around his neck and leverages herself up to kiss him, coaxing his mouth open with her tongue and rubbing her body against his.

“God, Veronica, you have to stop,” he pants, breaking the kiss.

“Why, what’s wrong?” She nips at the underside of his chin.

“We can’t, you know.” Grabbing her waist firmly, he holds her hips in place as she tries to gain friction against him. 

“Have sex? Pretty sure we can.”

“But you—your arm…” A strangled sound escapes his lips as she gently bites down on the junction of his neck and shoulder.

Exasperated, Veronica stops what she’s doing so she can glare at him. “Logan, I’m  _ fine _ . You’ve gotta stop treating me like I’m made of glass. It’s driving me crazy!”

“I know, but—You need to get better, because I need you to be okay. I need you.” His eyes are full of emotion, pleading with her to understand. Crushing her to him, but still mindful of her injury, he inhales and holds her close.

“I am okay,” she mutters against his chest. “I’m okay because of you. And Wallace and everybody else.”

He kisses the top of her head. “I just—”

“Too much talking, not enough kissing,” she murmurs as she grabs the back of his neck and pulls his lips to hers again. Hitching her leg up to his waist, she tries to climb him and he obliges, sliding his hands under her ass and lifting her. She rubs her core against his length and her breath quickens as a delicious warmth spreads through her body. 

“Okay,” Logan moves his lips to her neck, “But what about your arm?”

“I think I can manage.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Here.” Veronica pats the countertop behind her. “Help me up.”

He hoists her up and seems to catch on to her idea, planting himself between her spread thighs and kissing her senseless. 

“Wait, this isn’t going to work. Gimme a sec.” Logan sets her back down on her feet and disappears into his bedroom, returning quickly with a condom between his fingers. Veronica is still panting, head spinning with desire, as he hands it to her. Smirking up at her, he kneels and strips her yoga pants and underwear off in one fluid motion before setting her back on the counter.

“That’s better,” he says, moving back between her legs and cupping her face gently with one hand while the other slides up her shirt, spanning her rib cage. Her wounded arm is still strapped to her chest in the sling, awkward between them but he works around it easily. The counter is cold against her ass but Logan makes her feel so good, she doesn’t care. His hand tangles in her hair, tilting her head back as his tongue explores her mouth, while his other thumb gently rubs back and forth across her nipple. 

Using her good hand, she grabs at the waistband of his grey athletic shorts, simultaneously tugging him closer and pulling them down, still holding the condom he gave her. 

Logan’s not wearing underwear, typical for sleep, and his hardness springs free. He moans into her mouth, encouraging, as Veronica scrambles to try to open the condom one-handed. 

She pulls away. “I can’t—”

His eyes fill with worry. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry, I—”

“No, you moron. I can’t get the condom open.” She holds it up to his face. 

Laughing, Logan takes it from her, tearing it open easily and rolling it on. He positions himself at her entrance. 

“Moron? Really? Is that any way to talk to your boyfriend?” he whispers, nudging his tip inside her. 

Veronica throws her head back, gripping his shoulder tightly. 

“A moron would keep talking right now. My boyfriend would shut up and fuck me.”

On a gasp, he sinks fully inside her. “God, Veronica,” he growls. “I love it when you talk like that.”

“What, like, fuck?” She wraps her legs around him, trying to pull him deeper still. 

“It’s hot.” Logan’s huge hands span her waist, holding her as he moves inside her, and he uses his thumbs to brush against her clit. 

Moaning, Veronica pushes against him, loving the exquisite pressure that’s building. “You like that?” He nods excitedly. “You like it when I tell you that I want you to fuck me harder?”

Logan grits his teeth. “I’m not gonna last if you do that again.”

Using her legs around him for leverage, she meets his thrusts. “If I do what? Tell you how good that feels? How much I like you inside me?” 

“Oh, god. You better come soon, baby, because that’s so fucking hot.” 

“Touch me, Logan. Yes, right there.” She wants...she needs...but Logan knows. His thumb presses against her and he drives deep, hitting just the right spot and everything explodes around her. The orgasm rocks through her, waves of pleasure radiate out from her core, lighting up every nerve ending. Her muscles contact and spasm around him and he thrusts a few more times before crying out and then stilling, holding her tight against his chest. It’s a good thing she’s seated or else her legs would give out. 

“Veronica,” he mumbles into her hair. “God, I love you so much. If anything had happened to you—”

“I know, baby.” She rubs his back soothingly as he pulls out and then steps away, disposing of the condom. When he comes back to her, she places a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, we got—”

_ Lucky _ . 

Her revelation from earlier in the evening comes rushing back at her. 

Logan doesn’t notice her mood shift, picking her up off the counter and cradling her close, being careful of her arm. 

“Come on, you really do need to get back to bed so—”

“No, Logan, I need to talk to you.”

He sets her down on the couch, then retrieves her yoga pants and underwear. Ever so gently, he dresses her, staring at her with cautious eyes the entire time.

“What’s up, baby?”

“This is going to sound crazy…” she trails off as he sits down facing her.

“I’ve kinda grown immune to your left-field comments but I’m gonna bite on this one. What crazy thing is bothering you now?”

Veronica reaches out and strokes his face.  _ He really has become your partner in this, hasn’t he? And a damn good one, too.  _

“I had this moment...when Lucky pointed the gun at us…”

He grabs her hand and squeezes, not understanding her hesitation. “I know, baby, I—”

“No, you don’t.” She clears her throat. “Logan, what if we were the targets? A lot of bad things have happened to us this year.”

He studies her knuckles as he runs his thumb over them. “I guess it hasn’t been a charmed life. Veronica, I’m sorry. I should have known that you’d get hurt, being close to me—”

She cuts him off before he can spiral any further.

“No, you Jackass. Think about it. The bus crash. Dr. Griffith lying about what happened on the bridge. PCHer attacks. Maybe even Lucky. What does it all have in common?”

“But, Lucky...he was...he’s always been batshit….” She can practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he processes what she’s saying. 

“Maybe. Or maybe just really easy to manipulate. We’ll probably never know why he snapped, it could have been random. But it got me thinking…”

“You think someone is trying to kill us? You or me?” Logan looks less surprised at this possibility than a typical teenage boy should. But when has Logan Echolls ever been typical?  _ Only in Neptune, right, Veronica?  _

She nods her head, confirming. 

“But why? And what do we do about it?”

Veronica squeezes his hand. “I don’t know. But I’m gonna figure it out.”

* * *

**Logan**

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel of the LeBaron, Logan checks the clock—again—and sighs. 

“So this is staking out, huh? I thought it’d be more exciting. I know!” He looks away from the loading dock of the San Diego Seafood Company to leer Veronica. “Let’s have sex.” 

“Think again, Pretty Boy,” Weevil cautions from the backseat and Logan turns to wink at him. 

“Should I leave you two alone?” Veronica rolls her eyes and leans forward in the passenger seat to get a better visual on the dock. 

Since there’s nothing else to do, Logan takes up one of his favorite hobbies: pestering his roommate. 

“Aw, come on, Weevs,” Logan cajoles. “Be a friend. Take a walk.” 

“You know, I can probably find Thumper myself and take care of him my way.” 

“Stop it, you two.” Veronica interrupts Logan’s fun. “The picture I have of this guy is fuzzy, I need to concentrate.”

Logan glances at the blown-up photo in her lap.  _ Speaking of… _ “How  _ did  _ you get a picture of the guy, Sweet Cheeks?”

“Speeding ticket, traffic cam,” she answers absently as she examines the features of the workers loading the trucks. 

He’s not sure why her resourcefulness and efficiency turns him on, but here he is, seriously considering kicking Weevil out of the car. 

Weevil grumbles, “This is taking forever, V.” 

Logan wisely keeps his mouth shut. If he plays his cards right  _ Veronica  _ will kick Weevil out for him. Then maybe they can make things interesting.

Veronica twists abruptly in her seat. “Oh, I’m sorry, is keeping you out of jail putting a dent in your social calendar?” 

“Hey!” Weevil protests. “Who said anything about jail? I’m not going to kill him. Just… you know, maim. Or seriously injure.”

Veronica gives him a pitying look. “Oh, come on. If something happens to Thumper, you're the first person Lamb goes after.”

Logan grins.  _ There’s that sunshine he loves and adores.  _ While not as exciting as his original idea, watching Veronica get worked up works, too.

“Fine, have it your way.” Weevil concedes, slouching in his seat. 

“My way?” Veronica’s smile is sugar-coated sarcasm. “You mean the way that, I repeat,  _ keeps you out of jail for murder?”  _

She turns away with her chin raised and continues scanning the dock workers. 

Logan shakes his head. Can’t Weevil see she has her “I’m right about this” face on? There’s no point in arguing.  

“Let it go, man,” Logan advises. “You’re on our team now, we’re the good guys.” 

Weevil snorts. “This, from the people who planted an illegal firearm on a poor, unsuspecting criminal, then got him pulled over.” 

Logan winces.  _ Well, when you put it that way… _

“We operate more in the gray area than the white,” Veronica mutters as she studies a new addition to the loading crew. She perks up and points. “I think that’s the guy.” 

“You sure?” Logan glaces between the picture and the dark haired man. 

“No, but….” Veronica shrugs at Logan. “Okay, Lovebug, stay here. Me and the muscle—” 

Logan shoots her a hurt look and she backtracks. “Me and the  _ other  _ muscle are going to talk to him.” 

Mollified _ ,  _ Logan nods as they hop out of the car. Considering the fact that she thinks someone is trying to kill them, he’d usually be right by her side, but he knows she’s safe with Weevil. 

Through the window, Logan watches Veronica and Weevil approach the potential witness, Veronica taking the lead on the conversation. Logan tenses as the guy’s jaw clenches in response. 

He may trust Weevil, but he’s ready to jump in a moments notice. 

Weevil starts talking and Logan relaxes as the guys bullish expression softens incrementally the longer Weevil goes on. 

If feels good, checking something off the to-do list. Don’t let Weevil go to jail.  _ Check.  _ Now, if only they could figure out if Veronica is right about someone trying to kill them,  _ that  _ would be an efficient day. 

When Veronica and Weevil return to the car, Logan steers them out of the loading dock as Veronica explains, “So, it seems our favorite white knight  _ did _ see one biker stab the other. He didn’t come forward because he’s afraid of the PCHers in his neighborhood.”

“Non-murdering friend here,” she jerks her thumb towards the backseat, “convinced him that he and his family will be safe if he comes forward.”

“Yup.” Weevil announces. “Looks like I’m helping the boys get away from the Fitzpatricks in return for a little favor.”

* * *

 

###  **Veronica**

“There are cameras in the elevator, you know,” Veronica hisses at Logan as he nuzzles her neck again and squeezes her ass. 

“Don’t care,” he mutters, mouthing her sensitive skin again and making her shudder. “Weevil’s not here right now and—”

“I’m pretty sure my dad’s befriended the security guards,” she protests, pushing his chest half-heartedly. His mouth sends jolts of desire straight to her core and she’s quickly forgetting why she wanted to stop him in the first place. 

The elevator doors open at the eleventh floor, revealing Keith Mars, pacing the length of the hallway. 

“Dad!”

Logan hurries to put space between them as Veronica does her best to straighten her clothes. Her arm has healed well enough to remove the sling, but it’s still sore and her movements are slightly clunky. Hoping to distract her dad from her mussed appearance she asks over brightly. 

“What are you doing here?”

Keith eyes their position and undoubtedly notices the reddening skin on her neck as she tries to hide it with her hair. 

Nostrils flaring, he lets it pass. “I cut my trip short and came back early. I found out something—I need to talk to you.”

Logan brushes past her dad in the hall. 

“Maybe you should come in, Mr. Mars.” He slides the keycard into the lock and holds the door open, motioning her father inside. Raising his eyebrows at her, Keith enters the room and stands awkwardly in the living area, glancing around at the furnishings.

“Can I get you anything? Water?” Logan offers.

“Thanks, but no. I’m sorry to just drop in like this, but—”

“Actually, Dad, I’m glad you’re here. I have something to tell you, too.” Veronica sits on the couch and pats it invitingly but her dad chooses to stay standing. She tries—unsuccessfully—not to think about all the times Logan has had her naked in this room. Gulping, she continues. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you before you left, everything was all jumbled in my mind, but after the shooting I started to see a pattern.”

Logan hands her a can of Skist—already opened—and sits beside her, rubbing a small encouraging circle on her lower back.

“I know this might sound crazy, but, Dad, I think Logan, or me, or both of us—I think we we’re the targets. Too many things have happened this year for it to not be connected.”

Her dad eyes her skeptically as he sinks onto the opposite leg of the couch.

“The targets? I don’t understand.”

Veronica holds up her good hand, ticking off points on her fingers. “The bus crash. PCHer attacks. The bogus witness trying to discredit Logan about Felix’s murder. Maybe even Lucky. They all have one thing in common. I think someone is trying to...eliminate a threat.”  

Keith rubs his hand along the top of his bare head. “The bus crash, Veronica. I was finally able to trace the money in Curly’s account. It was transferred there from an account belonging to a man named Jonathan Brooks.”

Logan startles violently next to her.

“What did you say, Mr. Mars?”

“Jonathan Brooks. You know him?”

All the color drains from Logan’s face. “I know what happened.”  


	14. This Is Us

“This is Logan Echolls with today’s inspirational message. ‘The big moments are gonna come, you can't help that. It's what you do afterwards that counts. That's when you find out who you are.’ Whistler, Buffy the Vampire Slayer."

* * *

 

**Chapter 14: This is Us**

**Logan**

“I know what happened.” 

Logan hops up off the couch in his living area and rubs the back of his neck. 

Veronica turns to him, a little affronted, with an eyebrow raised and a disbelieving twist to her lips. Even Mr. Mars looks skeptical. 

Logan huffs. “Okay, I don’t know _exactly_ what happened, but that name—Jonathan Brooks—that’s the name my dad uses when he wants to avoid the press.” 

_Not that Aaron hides from the press a lot_. But occasionally he’d check into a hotel or make reservations under the assumed name. 

“Son,” Keith’s voice is kind. “I know you and your father have had your issues, and I agree he’s capable of murder, but do you really think Aaron would try to kill his own son?” 

Logan looks down, trying to formulate an acceptable response. He’s not really sure why _he’s_ embarrassed that the answer is—

“Yes,” Veronica answers for him, voice firm and tenuously controlled. 

Logan sinks back down onto the couch next to her. 

“I see,” Mr. Mars says quietly, and sits heavily on the coffee table in front of the sofa. 

Maybe Mr. Mars does see. A little more than Logan’s comfortable with, because the edge of sympathy in the man's tone grates. 

Then Veronica reaches out to Logan, intertwining their fingers, and the brief flare of shame flutters away. He instantly feels anchored, strong.

“I wouldn’t put it past him to try and kill me, or even a bunch of kids to get to me,” Logan confesses. “The name Jonathan Brooks can’t be a coincidence. Or the similarities between the bus crash and my dad’s movie.” 

Keith grunts. “Okay, I see your point...but, why? If you’re right, why would Aaron target you?” He glances between Logan and Veronica, forehead still wrinkled in doubt.  “Both of you?”

“Because...because we’re testifying!” Veronica gasps. “We’re testifying against him. He needs to eliminate any threat to his ‘I’m a pedophile but I wouldn’t hurt a fly defence.’” 

“That seems a little far-fetched, honey.” Mr. Mars holds up a hand to quiet Veronica’s protest. “I’m not saying it’s a complete impossibility. Watch your back, stay vigilant, and I’ll see what else I can find.”

Logan squeezes Veronica’s hand as she grumbles. 

Keith sighs. “I believe Aaron paid Curly off for _something_ but whether or not it was to murder a school bus full of children… well, let me do some more digging.”  

“What about the shooting and even Logan getting framed for murder? It’s all connected, Dad.” Veronica insists. 

Logan grimaces. _Of course it’s all connected._

“I said I’ll look into it, Veronica, and I will,” Keith promises. 

“But—“

“But we can’t rule out other possibilities,” Mr. Mars cuts Veronica off. 

He reaches into the tattered leather briefcase by his feet and pulls out a pile of papers. 

“I was finally able to obtain Kendall Casablancas’ bank statements. Could you have the Casablancas boys look it over for anything that seems odd?” 

“Kendall?” Logan dismisses the idea immediately. “Kendall Casablancas can’t make dinner reservations without detailed instructions.” 

“Some would say the same about your father,” Keith retorts. 

Logan tips his head, conceding the point. 

“Alright, kids. I’m heading home.” Mr. Mars stands, stretching and picking up his briefcase. “Veronica, honey, I’ll see you for dinner.” 

Logan hears the underlying command in Ketih’s tone and hides his disappointment. He was hoping for another overnight.

“I’ll be there,” Veronica assures her dad. “I’ll walk you out.” 

When Veronica comes back to the room, Logan pats the seat next to him and she obliges, scooting closer to him and leaning on his side.. 

“Now that he’s gone…” Logan pulls her up into his lap, “Where were we?”

“Logan!” She smacks his shoulder. Clearly her arm is healing well. “Your dad might be trying to kill you, how can you think about that now?”

He’s not sure how to explain that he’s _always_ thinking about that, and that his father has been trying to kill him for years. Just not as _dramatically_ as this. 

He shrugs and slides Veronica back onto the couch, and folds his hands demurely in his lap. 

“Okay, sugar plum. Where do we start?”

Veronica shakes her head at his antics and picks up Kendall’s bank statements. “Let’s eliminate Kendall as a suspect first, then maybe my dad will focus on Aaron.” 

“Yes, dear.” He sits back on the couch as she peruses the sheets, flipping the pages and muttering to herself. 

_Maybe he should use this time to order dinner for Weevil and himself since Veronica can’t stay. It was his turn to take the laundry to Suds and he forgot, so it’s the least he can do._

“Well, looky here.” 

Logan straightens in his seat at Veronica’s smug drawl. “Whatcha got, partner?”

“Look who had some work done with a certain plastic surgeon we both know and love. Two guess what she got done.” 

Veronica makes a not-too-subtle gesture towards her chest. 

“Nah,” he tells her offhandedly as he leans over to study the $1,000 charge. “Too low for a boob job.” 

Met with silence, he glances at Veronica. She’s staring back at him, eyebrows raised. 

“What?” he asks defensively. “I grew up in the same house with Lynn Lester and Trina Echolls. I know how much breast augmentation, rhinoplasty, and liposuction costs.” 

A corner of Veronica’s lips kick up in a one-sided smirk, but all she says is, “Looks like we need to pay Dr. Griffith a visit.”   


* * *

 

**Veronica**

Veronica glances around the empty waiting room. The bored college-aged receptionist that she remembers from her last visit must be out to lunch, but that serves her purpose just fine. Jerking her head in the direction of Dr. Griffith’s office, she grabs Logan’s hand. 

“C’mon. We’re gonna drop in unexpectedly.”

“Without an appointment?” He pretends to be scandalized, widening his eyes and letting his mouth drop open in fake horror. 

“I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t see me anyway. I’ve burned this bridge already.”

“You? Never. You probably napalmed it.” Logan stops in the middle of the garishly wallpapered hallway and kisses the tip of her nose. “Doesn’t matter; you’re perfect the way you are.” 

“Thank you, but I’m more worried about getting Dr. Griffith to talk to me, not perform plastic surgery on me.”

Logan shrugs. “Clearly he has some issues. Maybe a few well-placed threats wouldn’t hurt.”

Veronica taps her finger on her chin. “Tip off the authorities about his drug use? Report him to the medical licensing board? So many things to choose from.”

“Or even just let the Fitzpatricks get wind of our many conversations and let them take care of it.”

She shivers. “That’s merciless.”

“I didn’t say you should actually do it,” Logan clarifies. “Just let Dr. Griffith think you will.”

“I love it when you’re devious.”

“So, always?” A lazy smile spreads across his face. 

“Yep. Let’s go.” Pushing open the door to his office, Veronica calls out, “Dr. Griffith, we need to have a word with you.”

Tom Griffith jumps up from behind his desk, his brow wrinkled in confusion that morphs to anger. “Wait, you! What are you doing?” He points his finger at them. “I’m calling security.”

He reaches for the phone on his desk but Logan steps forward and puts his hand over it, keeping it in the cradle. “I don’t think you want to do that.” His voice is low, dangerous.

Dr. Griffith takes a step back, eyes wide behind his wire-framed glasses. “Why not?”

“You falsely accused me of murder. I think the least you can do is answer my girlfriend’s questions.”

Never taking his gaze off Logan, Dr Griffith sinks down into the leather-backed chair behind his dark mahogany desk. Framed by his book shelves and many diplomas, he should be an imposing figure but the clear unease on his features negates that image. Veronica’s curious about his background. _Are his degrees legit? Did he know what kind of family he was marrying into? Is that why his first marriage ended? How much does Hannah know?_

_Focus, Veronica_ . _You know what they say about curiosity._

Shaking off her musings, she takes the seat opposite him and folds her hands primly in her lap.  

“We’re not here about Logan this time, or your false testimony.” She gives him a feral grin as Logan sits down into the chair beside her. “I just want to know about one of your patients. Mrs. Ken—”

“Whomever it is, I can’t tell you anything. Doctor-patient confidentiality,” he interrupts her.

“O-kay.” Veronica draws out the word, filling it with irritation. “Here’s what I know. Mrs. Kendall Casablancas paid you a thousand dollars last month. For what? Are you blackmailing her? Supplying her with prescription drugs? What’s the deal?”

Dr. Griffith clears his throat. “As I mentioned, that falls under the doctor-patient category.”

“Ah.” Logan sits up straighter in his chair, eyes gleaming with interest. “So it was a surgical procedure.”

“Well—”

He cuts off the doctor, ignoring him as if he’s not even there, and addresses Veronica. “I’m telling you, JuJuBee”—she makes a face at the terrible pet name—“no decent boob job is less than $10,000.”

“Well—”

Dr. Griffith tries to interject but Veronica continues her conversation with Logan. “Maybe a tummy tuck? Or...the bump?” She taps the bridge of her own nose, then gasps theatrically. “Liposuction?” 

The doctor doesn’t manage to do more than open his mouth this time before Logan shakes his head. “No, that’s more like five grand. There’s really no procedure—if everything is above-board—that would be that cheap.”

They both swing their heads back to Dr. Griffith, who shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

“Look, I don’t know what you think I can tell you,” he hedges. “I’m not going to put my license in jeopardy by—”

Logan barks a harsh laugh. “It’s funny, you taking the moral high ground. You lied about witnessing a crime and accused someone who was innocent. You’re clearly involved in something shady with the current Mrs. Casablancas, and Veronica found drugs at your house. So yeah, I think if _someone_ ,” he stresses the word pointedly, “were to report you, there’s a good chance you’d lose your license. There’s really all kinds of things going on here that you probably don’t want investigated.”

“Might as well just tell us,” Veronica chimes in.

Sighing, Tom Griffith drops his head into his hands, his words muffled. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

“It never is.” Her voice is hard, without a trace of sympathy. 

“Fine.” He meets her eyes across the desk, resolute. “I performed a cosmetic procedure on Mrs. Casablancas. The reason it was so economical was because I was instructed to give her the Fitzpatrick discount.”

Veronica can’t help the tiny gasp that escapes her lips. She glances over at Logan. His eyes are wide and gleaming. 

_He loves this as much as you do_. The thought fills her with glee. 

“Kendall has ties to our favorite Irish crime family.” He raises his eyebrows.

“So it would seem.” Veronica swivels to the doctor. “How is Kendall connected? How does she know the Fitzpatricks?”

Dr. Griffith throws his hands in the air. “What, you think that’s a question on the patient in-take form?”

“It didn’t come up?” Logan querries, raising a skeptical brow. “As you discussed your...mutual acquaintances?”

Griffith glares at them. “I think she’s partners with one of my brothers-in-law. Ex-brothers-in-law, rather,” he clarifies. “Or they are lovers, or both.”

“Which one?” 

“Lovers or partners?” Dr. Griffith misunderstands her question.

“No, which brother?”

“Cormac, I’m pretty sure.” He glances away, shame written large across his features. 

Veronica stands and dusts off her hands. “They don’t seem like nice people, Doc. Given your situation, you should just move out of Neptune. Start fresh.”

He just shakes his head sadly as she grabs Logan’s arm and tugs him out of the office. 

“If only it were that simple.”

_Ah, Neptune. Where nothing is simple and corruption runs deep. Too bad the Chamber of Commerce won’t approve that for the new tourism slogan. It’s all too fitting._  


* * *

  **Logan**  

“Why are we doing this again?” Wallace complains as he walks down the beach, pulling at the material of his wetsuit.

“Because, my friend, you live in California now. That means you surf.”  Logan throws down his beach blanket and digs his surfboard into the sand. 

Dick nods in agreement, setting his own gear down. 

“How come he doesn’t have to do it?” Wallace gestures towards Weevil, who’s already tossed his t-shirt onto the sand and stretched out on a towel with his hands pillowed behind his head. 

Weevil slips his shades off. “Don’t bring me into this. I’m just here to keep an eye on things while V’s at the doctor for her arm.”  

Logan snorts, “Yeah, you seem real alert.” 

“Relax, Pretty Boy. I got your back.” With that he closes his eyes and lowers his sunglasses over them. 

Logan snorts then address his fellow surfers. “Alright everyone! Heads up, chests out, big smiles! Let’s do this.” 

Wallace gives the orange and yellow longboard Logan leant him a dubious look. “Man, can’t we just get our nails done?” 

“Come on, you’ll love it.” Dick assures him. 

“We’ll just paddle around for awhile until you get used to the board,” Logan adds as they head towards the water. “You only have to stand up if you’re comfortable.” 

It takes a while, but Wallace gets semi-comfortable on the board. Still, he doesn’t bother to try and catch a wave and neither do Dick and Logan. Lost in their own thoughts, they drift away from each other. Logan is glad to be in good company, and he’s loathe to break their companionable silence, but he made Veronica a promise. With a sigh, he paddles closer to Dick. 

“Hey, dude. So… you heard from Kendall lately?”

Dick meets his gaze with sharp eyes. “I figured we’d get around to that.” 

Logan shrugs and gives him a small, regretful smile. He filled everyone in on the Aaron/Kendall situation on the way to the beach earlier. Dick’s coping mechanism in life is avoidance and willful ignorance. He didn’t seem too happy about the reminder of his dysfunctional family situation. 

“Yeah, sorry, I just...have you? Heard from her?” he prods.

“No, but we weren’t exactly close. You really think she had something to do with everything that’s been going on?”

“Veronica thinks she might. At first she thought Kendall might have orchestrated the bus crash to collect on life insurance for you and Cassidy.” Logan’s voice goes up in question towards the end. He’s not sure how much Dick knows about the policy. 

“Nah,” Dick denies easily. “That’s just Dad. Standard Casablancas operating procedure— insure the heir _and_ the spare. I bet Kendall didn't even know he added her to the policy.”

“Yeah, that makes sense, man.” He’s not actually sure taking out life insurance on your kids does make sense, but there’s no harm in humoring Dick. “Anyway, like I told you earlier, now Veronica’s convinced that she and I are actually the targets.”

“That sucks, dude. Good thing Ronnie hired you a bodyguard.” Duck indicates Weevil, still lounging on the beach. 

“You know he doesn’t really work for us, right?” They’re all friends now, but that doesn’t mean Weevil won’t punch Dick at the slightest provocation. 

Dick stares at Logan, brow furrowed. “He’s always around.” 

“Yes.” 

“He does whatever Ronnie says.” 

_Well, technically…_ ”Yes.”

“He’s upset he didn’t take a bullet for you guys.” 

“Okay, yes. But, Dick, we don’t _pay_ him. He’s our friend.” 

“You can’t be friends with the help, dude,” Dick informs him loftily. 

Logan throws a glance to Wallace for help, but he’s drifted too far away to hear. Giving up, Logan agrees, “Yeah, we like having him around.”

“He’s cool.” 

Clearing his throat, Logan circles back to Dick’s former stepmother. “So… any idea how Kendall knows the Fitzpatricks?”

“Nah, sorry, man.” 

Logan claps Dicks shoulder. “I figured. Don’t worry about it.” He told Veronica this was pointless. Now his friend is moodily scooping up water and dribbling it back into the ocean. 

“Hey, why don’t we invite everyone to the suite. I close on the house soon, so we can have one final shindig to say goodbye to the place.” 

Dick perks up a bit. “That would be awesome! There’s still a few chicks that haven’t been introduced to the Dickster. And we probably owe the football team an invite. They lost the season without their linebacker.”

_A big party while they’re potentially murder targets. Veronica’s going to love that._ Dick misreads Logan’s silence. “Don’t worry, bro. I got this. I’ll print the fliers and everything. Wally will help.” With that he paddles towards Wallace.

Shrugging philosophically Logan kicks off, gliding through the water to join them. Next time, Veronica can ask the questions. 

* * *

 

**Veronica**

Veronica steps into the crowded Neptune Grand elevator, calling out, “Eleven, please.” Remembering the last time she went to an infamous Logan Echolls party at The Grand, she smiles ruefully to herself. 

To say she was less than thrilled when Logan told her about his “Epic party,” as Dick called it, would be an understatement. Sure, they’ve had lots of get-togethers with their small friend group but he hasn’t thrown a full-blown bash since his “Life Is Short” party in the fall. Dick begged and Logan promised no more destructive decisions, though, so here she is, on her way up to his suite. 

_Really, Veronica. Give him some credit. Think about how much he’s changed since then._

_It’s true_ , she admits to herself. Logan, while still a bit of a jackass, has proven that he can take care of himself plus the adopted family of friends that he’s cultivated, herself included. Yeah, they’ve had some tough spots but they’ve come through everything stronger than ever. She’s proud of the relationship that they’ve forged together, and proud of the fact that he’s invited every member of the Senior class to this party, not just the ‘09ers. _It’s not your ideal social scene these days, Veronica, but maybe it won’t be so bad._

She pulls her phone out of her bag and begins fiddling with it. Logan hasn’t stopped messing with all of her ringtones, assigning her friends certain songs, and she smiles to herself as she changes them back. She kind of likes what he picked for everyone but she has to fix them—it’s part of the game they play and she’d hate to disappoint him. If she doesn’t reprogram them, then he can’t sneak in her phone and pick new ones later. 

“Lean On Me” is actually a great song for Wallace but she changes it to The White Stripes “We’re Going to Be Friends.” Predictably, Logan has made his ringtone “Bad Boyfriend,” but that doesn’t really fit him anymore. Veronica selects “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” for him instead. 

As she’s changing Jackie’s song from “Independent Woman,” to her new choice, the elevator clears out and she shakes her head, her soft grin spreading wider across her face at his antics. She might pretend to be annoyed with Logan’s little game, but secretly she loves it. For a long time, she worried that if she relaxed and let herself enjoy being with Logan, something terrible would happen. _This is Neptune, after all._ But even if they do seem to be in life-threatening danger more often than not...things are actually okay between them. They’ve been working to communicate, she’s made an effort not to run when things have gotten intense, and falling in love with Logan hasn’t resulted in calamity like she expected. Biting her lip, she pulls out her phone and changes Logan’s ringtone again. Hopefully it will make him smile when he picks a new one.

“Veronica.”

Jumping, she grips her phone tighter. Her blood runs cold. She thought the elevator was empty. That voice...that’s the voice that haunts her nightmares. Nights spent with Logan have helped, but when she sleeps alone, she still hears that voice taunting her as she claws at the inside of a freezer. 

She spins to face the figure behind her. Hidden behind a tan jacket, navy ball cap, and aviator shades is Aaron Echolls. Her pulse picks up and her breath comes in shallow pants. He takes off his sunglasses and the predatory gleam in his eyes sends a spike of fear through her chest.

“I was hoping I might find you here. My security contact at the hotel mentioned Logan’s big party, and well, I thought it was high time we all had a family chat.”

“No, thanks, I’ll pass.” Veronica moves to hit the button for the next floor on the elevator panel but before her fingers connect, Aaron pulls a gun from his jacket and points it straight at her heart. 

“Not so fast.”

Hands shaking, she retreats to the other side of the small box, as far away from him as she can get. 

“That’s better.” He gestures with the gun. “You know, props departments do such great work. This doesn’t feel any different than the fake ones I’ve used on set.” 

His conversational tone is somehow worse than if he sounded crazed. Eyes narrowing at her, he continues. 

“But it’s real, Veronica. Real bullets, too. I figured, well, if you want something done you have to do it yourself and all that. So why don’t you go ahead and pull out your phone there and call Logan, convince him to join us up on the roof.”

She glances reflexively up at the camera mounted in the elevator but there’s no green light. Aaron must notice her scrutiny because he says, “I convinced my friend in security to disable those. Celebrity guests need their privacy.”

Her hands shake, slippery with sweat around her phone. Backed into the corner, she opens her mouth but no sound comes out. She’s frozen in place, her fingers numb with fear

“And god knows you’re not an actress but really try to sell it, Veronica,” Aaron says, voice laced with disdain. 

He gestures towards her with the gun before pointing it at her again, intent clear. 

“Unless you want me to call him? If you’re not needed, I’ll just get rid of you now…” 

Her brain finally snaps out of her paralyzing panic. Clearing her throat, she fumbles with her phone. “No, I got it.”

“Put it on speaker,” he instructs. 

Pressing the ‘2’ button has never been so hard.

“Hey, Cuddle Bear. Thought you’d be here by now.” Logan’s voice across the phone line is warm and carefree. “You on your way?”

Clearing her throat again, she does her best to sound sexy. “I am, actually.”

Aaron’s gaze doesn’t leave her face. He gestures upwards with the gun and mouths, ‘roof.’

“But first, baby, I—I have something planned for you,” she improvises, channeling her breathy Amber tone. “You know how I love big, romantic gestures. Meet me on the roof.”

“Veronica, I’ve been up there before. It’s dirty and industrial. But I know, it’s been a while. If you want romance, after everyone leaves tonight, we can—”

“No!” She tries to keep her fear out of her voice. Softening her tone, she tries again. “I just really need you right now. Up on the roof.”

There’s a pause, sounds of the party in the background, then Logan’s hesitant, “Veronica?”

“That naughty, naughty thing you’ve been wanting to try in bed?” She cuts him off, hopefully keeping Aaron from hearing the suspicion in his tone. “Well, I promise I’ll let you do it if you just meet me up there. As soon as you can.”

He waits a beat again before answering. “Okay, I—”

“See you there. Hurry, baby.”

Aaron nods and she hangs up before Logan can question her. Palm up, he wiggles his fingers, motioning for her phone and she slaps it into his hand. 

“Not a bad piece of acting, Veronica.” He raises his eyebrows as if this is a high compliment. The elevator dings, indicating the eleventh floor but Aaron closes the doors and sends them up to the roof. “Good news: This will all be over soon.” 

_________  


Veronica’s gaze locks on Logan as he pushes the roof door open. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene—his father’s arm tight across her torso, holding her in place, gun pressed against her temple. 

“I’m sorry,” she mouths silently to him. 

“Hello, Son. Looks like I’ve finally got your attention.” 

Logan’s eyes narrow at Aaron’s jovial tone and a muscle jumps in his jaw. 

“Get your hands off her, you bastard,” he snarls, lunging in her direction. 

“Not so fast.” Aaron waves the gun around wildly, and jerks on the handcuffs that are keeping her bound. “I’m calling the shots here.”

Logan halts, panic and anger clear in his features. 

Veronica’s heart jumps erratically in her chest, thumping against her rib cage. She couldn’t get away from Aaron in the elevator before he forced her into the handcuffs and then up onto the roof. Desperately wishing she had been able to keep Logan safe, she hopes he at least picked up on her clues that the situation wasn’t quite as advertised. 

He glances around, wary. “What are you trying to do here?”

Aaron laughs. His fingers dig into her upper arm, surely leaving bruises, and he shakes her roughly. 

“Taking care of a problem.”

Hands clenched into fists, Logan draws himself up to his full height. “Like you took care of Lilly? Or tried to stop Veronica the first time?”

“Honestly, I didn’t think it would be this hard. The women you date, Son. Such bitches.”

Scoffing, Logan’s eyes flash. “Last time I checked, that doesn’t mean you can try to kill them.” He takes a step closer, hitting the same casual tone as his father. “Or is it me? I can’t tell.”

Veronica struggles against the cuffs binding her but it just causes Aaron to jerk her arm and tighten his grip. Her injured arm had been healing well but it throbs in pain at the rough treatment. His touch makes her skin crawl and her breath comes in harsh, frightened pants. 

Aaron’s sadistic chuckle reverberates through her chest. He gestures with his gun. “Well, Son, if you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem. And you’ve made it very clear where your allegiance lies this year.”

“Yeah, it’s weird that I’m on the side of people who don’t commit murder.”

His sarcasm in this moment shouldn’t reassure her, but somehow it does. Bolstered, she forces herself to take deep, even breaths and stands straighter, nodding confidently at Logan. 

It must encourage him, because he continues, casually shoving his hands in his pockets. “So, what? You really think killing us is gonna get those pesky charges dropped? Because I don’t think the Kanes will go for that.”

Aaron scoffs. “Duncan was easy to manipulate. A little blackmail about his pregnant girlfriend took care of that problem. If a scandal like that got out...well. He was never the Kane with spunk.”

Logan’s eyes narrow. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

“Lilly was spirited, I’ll give her that. Adventurous. But I don’t have to tell you, do I?” 

Logan stiffens and Veronica recognizes the look that crosses his face—the one he gets right before he punches someone. She shakes her head, willing him to stay calm and keep Aaron talking. 

Though the muscle in his jaw jumps again, his hands stay balled into fists in his pockets and Logan manages to check his anger. His chest rises and his nostrils flare in a deep exhale.

Aaron must not notice his efforts because he’s still talking.

“I can see why the two of them were such good friends. Lilly and Veronica.” He presses the barrel of the gun against her temple again and she shivers, the metal cool and terrifying to her flesh. “They’re so much alike; not afraid to speak their minds. You know, that just might be the best part about the day I smashed Lilly’s head in with an ashtray. She finally shut the hell up. And this one,” he jerks on her arm, making the handcuffs rattle, “so nosy.” He sighs deeply, as if the whole affair pains him. “I knew it would be in my best interest if she...disappeared and was unable to testify. You, too, Logan."

Logan nods. His ability to pretend this is normal threatens to make her giggle. 

“Veronica saw the tapes so that makes sense...Duncan, too, I s’pose, but me…?” Logan trails off, his features hardening. “Oh, I get it. I could testify for the prosecution, tell everyone what a terrible, abusive father you are. So clearly, we had to go.” 

He spreads his hands theatrically and Aaron nods. “Exactly. Public sympathy for you is bad for my image.”

“The PCHer drive by in the summer...the bus crash...the witness on the bridge...the stolen evidence…Lucky’s suspiciously accurate aim. Was it Kendall who introduced you to your new Fitzpatrick friends?”

Aaron’s wide grin confirms their theory. 

“And here’s another thing I can’t figure out,” Logan continues. “How did you even know about the trip to Shark Field?”

“Ah, that would be the very helpful Ms. Arnold in the high school office.” His voice is so smug, it sets her teeth on edge. “She’s a big fan and always willing to help a dedicated parent. Connected me with my dearly departed janitor friend, too.” 

Recognition dawns in Logan’s gaze. He shifts his posture, edging closer towards them but the conversation—the chance to show off his brilliance—seems to distract Aaron sufficiently enough that he doesn’t notice. “Et tu, Ms. Arnold? Well played, Dad. How’d you get your friend Curly to do it?”

“Money, of course. It makes the world go ‘round, Logan.”

“And then when we weren’t on the bus…?”

“Well, I had to tie up that loose end, keep Curly from talking. I wrote Veronica’s name on his hand to throw her off, scare her a little. How’d I do?”

He jerks her arm and Veronica realizes this last question was directed at her. “Permanent marker? My name on a dead guy? A little low-concept for my tastes.” 

Admiration gleams in Logan’s eyes before Aaron rams the butt of his gun into her head. 

Crying out, Veronica drops to her knees, and she can’t stop the tears that spring to her eyes and stream down her face. She rests the side of her head on her shoulder, trying to put pressure on it and relieve some of the intense pain. She can’t tell if she’s bleeding or not. Logan starts to rush to her but Aaron points the gun at him, halting him in place. He raises his hands, palms up in surrender, but his face is a mask of fury.

“Uh-uh-uh, Son. Stop right there. See, it’s their stupid, smart mouths that get them killed. I’d feel bad, but really, you deserve this, Veronica. You brought it on yourself.” Clearing his throat, he continues. “With your track record, Logan, no one would be surprised if you killed your girlfriend in a fit of anger and then killed yourself.”

Her head pounds and gravel from the rooftop digs into her skin through her jeans as she kneels on the ground. Aaron’s fingers press into her shoulder, forcing her to stay put. She sways as her vision blurs and she wills herself to stay conscious. 

Logan barks a sarcastic laugh and steps closer to them. “Murder-suicide? Really? That’s your master plan?”

“I just can’t decide,” Aaron muses, not acknowledging Logan’s interruption, “Which one of you to kill first. I think it’s most poetic if I force you to watch me kill your girlfriend, though, right?” 

Bringing the gun to her head and digging it into her wound, she whimpers in pain. The gun cocking reverberates in her ears, louder than her mounting panic. 

Logan yells, “No!” in desperation or fury, and the door to the rooftop slams open with a bang, as their friends spill out into the space. 

Dick drunkenly hollers, “Par-tay!” taking a swig of whiskey, and Jackie gives a shril giggle, Weevil’s arms wrapped around her waist. Wallace crumples a beer can, throwing it over his shoulder, and bumps into Cassidy, who’s tugging on Mac’s hand. They are an intoxicated, crazy congo line and Veronica has never been so happy to see them in her whole life.

Aaron startles and spins to see what is happening, loosening his grip on her shoulder. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Veronica rams her elbow into his ribs and then stomps on his instep. As he bends over in pain, she quickly jams her elbow up and back, hitting his nose and then, with all her strength, she jabs his groin sharply, connecting with soft flesh. Self-defense lessons with Sack’s in the seventh grade were worth it after all. 

Collapsing, she rolls to the side as Logan lets out another primal roar and tackles his father the rest of the way to the ground. The gun clatters uselessly out of his grip, landing at Jackie’s feet, and for the first time since Aaron uttered her name in the elevator, Veronica breathes a sigh of relief.

_There goes another one of your nine lives, girl._

On her back, she stares at the night sky while the rooftop spins around her. She inhales and exhales slowly a few times, the sound of the scuffle distant in the background, until she can heave herself up. The blood rushing from her head leaves her dizzy. Hands still bound behind her, she sways as she tries to stand. Mac and Cassidy rush to her side, holding her up and pressing a shirt to her head. 

_Is there blood_? she wonders vaguely. 

“Here, Bond, maybe you should sit.” Mac attempts to halt her mission to get to Logan, tugging on her arm. He’s still rolling on the rooftop, punching his father in the ribs to get the upper hand, but Veronica won’t let herself be moved. She ducks, striving to see past the cloth on her head, as Cassidy supports her other side. Weevil and Jackie have the gun, and Dick tries to help Logan. 

Wallace appears in front of her, blocking her view. She has trouble focusing on him but the concern etched deep across his features is apparent. “Supafly? You okay?”

“I wish we had a way to get her out of these cuffs.” Mac’s voice sounds like it’s coming from a long way away. Spots start to appear on the edges of her vision. 

_You cannot pass out yet_ , she tells herself fiercely. The receding adrenaline makes her shaky. 

“You’re in luck.” Wallace dangles his keychain before her eyes, the silver metal glinting in the dim roof lighting. “My BFF taught me the importance of handcuff keys.”

As Wallace moves behind her to remove her bonds, Dick jumps in the frey to pull Logan and Aaron apart. Still focused on pummeling each other, he gets lost in the tangle of limbs and yells for help. At his cry, Weevil fires the gun into the air. 

Finally, Aaron and Logan jerk apart at the sound. Veronica’s arms go free and fall limply to her sides as she sags against Wallace. 

“Logan,” Veronica whispers. He stays motionless on the ground. _Is he okay?_ Wallace’s grip tightens around her, holding her back when she lurches towards him. 

Aaron stands up, dusting himself off, already trying to spin the situation. “Well, I can’t thank you kids enough for interrupting when you did. Logan had lost it, he was crazy, he obviously needs help—”

“You know Mr. E, we learned to act in Spy School. You could probably use a refresher,” Dick suggests. 

Still holding the gun steady, Weevil interrupts. “Dick and Cassidy are gonna make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.” He motions at Logan’s father. “Jackie’s gonna check on Logan. And Mac, call the Sheriff.”

Jackie nods, sinking down next to Logan as Dick asks, “Hey, Wallace, think we could have those handcuffs?”

The cuffs rattle, loud in her ears, as Wallace picks them up and hands them to Cassidy, who hustles over to Dick and helps him restrain Aaron, protesting his innocence the whole time. 

Veronica uses the momentary distraction to half stumble, half crawl over to Logan. Jackie helps him sit up and, leaning against her, he pulls Veronica into his lap and holds her tightly. 

“Oh, god, baby, I was so worried. Are you okay? Are you bleeding?” he babbles but she just fists her hands in his t-shirt and pulls him close, taking deep breaths. A siren wails in the distance and blood trickles down the cut on her head. 

“You came,” she chokes out, her voice muffled by Logan’s chest.

“Always.” 

______  


“Veronica, are you sure you’re okay?” Her dad rushes through the tiny, cramped Sheriff’s department waiting area and crushes her to him. 

“Yeah, Dad,” she manages, her voice rusty. “I’m fine.”

He cups her face in his hands and examines the butterfly bandage on her temple. “I think you have some ‘splaning to do.”

Logan, gripping her hand tightly, hops up from his spot next to her and offers her dad the uncomfortable plastic chair he was sitting on. 

“Here, Mr. Mars. Have a seat. It’s a long story.”

Logan switches her hands so that he’s still holding onto her and hovers nearby. Normally the smothering would bother her but after his father tried to kill both of them earlier this evening, she wants to keep him close, too. _There’s plenty of time to feel smothered later._ For now, she gazes into his eyes and squeezes his fingers, trying to reassure him through their physical connection.

The Sheriff’s office is full. When Lamb and his deputies arrived at The Grand’s rooftop, they refused to listen to the explanations from the Scooby Gang. In a typical move, Lamb ordered everyone to the station. An EMT on the scene cleaned up Veronica’s head wound and assured her that she’d be fine—a doozy of a headache but no lasting damage or scaring. Which was good because she would have refused to go to the hospital, anyway. _Not gonna miss out on this._

If her dad is here, it probably won’t be long before the other parents show up, too. Dick and Beaver sit opposite her, with Mac asleep across their laps. Wallace sleeps propped up against the wall, Jackie leaning against him. Weevil, who’s been twitchy ever since they arrived, motions to the vending machines in the hallway and she shakes her head. For once in her life, food is the last thing on her mind. 

Glancing back at Logan, she searches his face, trying to decide what to say. _How is he handling everything that happened? Is there a way to spare his feelings? Does he even want you to?_ He must sense her indecision because he says, “It’s okay. Talking about it doesn’t bother me.”

Trying to keep her voice even, she recounts the night’s harrowing events. She tells her dad about her phone call, then turns to Logan and asks, “Did you know? That something was wrong?”

He looks down on her, brown eyes gleaming with appreciation. “Yeah, you were great, Veronica. It was clear that something was up. So I told the Scooby Gang to meet me on the roof in 10 minutes if I didn’t text them an all-clear.”

“That was good thinking, Logan.” Her dad turns grateful eyes to her boyfriend, patting his arm. “How ‘bout you grab a seat, Son, and help fill me in.” 

Keith gestures at the last available plastic chair in the waiting area and Logan grabs it, dragging it over to form a triangle with Veronica and her dad. His face reflects her exhaustion but he seems calm. Her dad takes the opportunity to inspect her temple once more, forehead wrinkled in concern, and places a gentle kiss over the bandage. She links her fingers with Logan’s once more. 

“Well,” he begins, reaching into his pocket, “Aaron basically confessed to everything—killing Lilly, the PCHer drive-by this summer, orchestrating the bus crash, killing Curly, and getting the Fitzpatricks and their cronies to implicate me in Felix’s death. Oh, and stealing the tapes from evidence. Plus I think he paid Lucky to stage the shooting and target us in the attack.”

He pulls his cell phone from his pocket, eyes twinkling. “And I have the proof right here.”

Veronica gasps. “What? You didn’t tell me that!”

Logan shrugs modestly, his lips curving into a smirk. “And you thought I wasn’t listening to your spy school lessons. I recorded it all on my cell phone.”

“It’s probably not admissible evidence,” her dad cautions, “but hopefully Lamb can still use it as leverage.”

“I can’t believe you thought of that.” She doesn’t even try to keep the note of praise out of her voice. “Well done, Muffin.”

“Wait, I don’t quite understand,” Keith interrupts. “How did Aaron get mixed up with the Fitzpatricks and the PCHers?”

“Through Curly and Kendall,” Logan explains.

“Kendall? Casablancas? But how—?” Her dad’s forehead wrinkles as he tries to connect the dots.

“Kendall’s connected to the Fitzpatricks through Cormac, we think? Maybe they’re an item. The PCHers working for the Fitzpatricks was undoubtedly good for Aaron. I just hope—”

“Thanks for the call, Keith.” Cliff McCormack cuts her off, breezing into the police station as if it’s the middle of the afternoon instead of the dead of night. “Some of them will undoubtedly need a good lawyer. And I’m here for everyone else.”

Veronica smiles at Cliff. _Finally. Something about this night feels normal._  


* * *

  **Logan**

“Hey! Watch it!” Logan calls out as Cassidy canon-balls off the diving board at his brand new house. He splashes Logan and Veronica, sitting innocently on the edge of the pool, dipping their legs into the water.

Somehow “Moving Day” turned into “Pool Party” day. Logan’s not sure how everyone got the memo to bring bathing suits, but he suspects Dick. 

“Sorry,” Cassidy yells back, as he surfaces and swims over to the far end of the pool where Wallace and Mac are treading water. He looks lighter, younger somehow, and Logan wonders what favor Veronica granted him. 

Shrugging it off, Logan turns to Veronica. Maybe they can take their party of two inside while everyone else is busy outside. “So, sugarplum—“

“Yo, Pretty Boy, you’re out of chips.” Weevil strolls out onto the pool deck, carrying a six pack of Skist. 

“Put it on the grocery list.” 

Logan makes a mental note to hire a housekeeper. 

“Put it on your own grocery list,” Weevil grouses. “I don’t live here.” 

Logan’s eyes widen. “You don’t?” Then he says casually, “You should. There’s a room for you and everything.” 

“Why would I live here, when I have my own room at my grandma’s house?”

_Because Thumper’s gone and the PCH’s are desperate for a new leader, and they’ve been after Weevil to fill the role. And the entire Scooby Gang wants to prevent that from happening._

But that argument wouldn’t sway the proud man in front of him. Instead, Logan looks at Weevil steadily. “Because my father’s trial isn’t over and we may need the muscle.” 

Weevil stares back. Logan can see that he’s weighing his words, measuring the truth in them. 

The respect, no longer begrudging, comes easy now. No one was more surprised than Logan at how well they understand each other. 

Veronica watches their byplay with the corners of her mouth lifted. “You two really do make a lovely couple.” 

Distracted, Weevil’s jaw drops and he jabs an accusing finger in Logan’s direction. “You told her!” 

“I did _not.”_ He didn’t. He doesn’t know where she got that from. 

“Hey, party people!” Dick interrupts, shaking a bag of chips in their direction. “Found another bag. What are we talking about?” 

“Weevil’s moving in with Logan,” Veronica informs him. 

“Duh. He’s his bodyguard.” 

Weevil covers his face with his hands. “Fine. I give up. Someone’s gotta watch out for you two drama magnets.” 

Logan masks his relief with a smirk.

“But I’m paying rent,” Weevil adds with a defensive air. 

Logan furrows his brow. “For what?”

“To help with the mortgage.” 

“What mortgage, dude?” Dick asks. 

“Um, okay….” Weevil draws it out. “Other stuff. Utilities. Water and shit.” 

“Dude, you don’t have to buy the bottled stuff. You can get it free from the sink,” Dick confides.

Weevil opens and shuts his mouth while Veronica gives in to helpless laughter. 

Her cell phone rings from the lounge chair behind them, cutting off her mirth. 

“ _Girls just want to have fun...they just wanna…”_

“It’s Jackie. I forgot to text her the code for the gate.” Veronica uses Logan’s shoulders as leverage to haul herself off the side of the pool.

Dick and Weevil wander off but Logan narrows his eyes at Veronica as she paces with the phone and laughs at something Jackie said. _He didn’t program that ringtone._

She knows him too well, so as nonchalantly as possible he edges away from the pool and inches towards his phone, queueing up her number when he reaches it. She’s just tossing the phone back onto the lounge chair when he pushes “call” and it rings again. 

“ _You're still the one I run to, The one that I belong to, You're still the one I want for life…”_

She flushes red all the way down to her chest as she fumbles to stop it. 

Delighted, he scoops her up and spins her around. “You love me.” 

He gives her neck a teasing nip.

“Shut up. I hate you,” she insists as she buries her face in his chest. “I didn’t think everyone would hear it.” 

“Bond!” Mac yells, giggling, from the far side of the pool, as Wallace and Cassidy try to dunk her. “Stop messing around! I’m out-numbered.” 

Veronica pops her head up just as Jackie saunters outside. 

“I’ll help even the odds,” Jackie offers, jumping in and dousing Wallace.

Logan slides Veronica down to the floor. _And who could blame him if he lingers just a little bit longer than necessary on the task?_

“Aren’t you glad I got the house?” He kisses her nose. “We can have a pool party for every milestone: graduation in a few months, start of the summer, Hearst next fall.”

She winds her arms around his neck. “Murder trials, mandatory guidance councilor meetings, successfully dodging the paparazzi.” She sighs and tips her head up to meet his gaze. “Will it ever get more normal?”

_Hasn’t she realized it yet?_

“Baby, I hate to break it to you, but we live in Neptune. What does normal even mean? Look at us.” He makes a sweeping gesture to encompass the pool.

She follows his gaze and scans their happy crew. Categorizing them by the most convenient definitions, the simplest terms, they shouldn’t fit. And yet here they are. 

The surfer debating video games with the gangster. The wannabe socialite splashing the shy math nerd. The computer genius giving chase to the athlete. Veronica’s eyes return to his, the 09er Prince.

Logan tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “ _This_ is normal.”

And suddenly Veronica’s laughing. 

She winds her arms around his neck, “Yeah, I guess it is.”   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our Co-writing Process:
> 
> Once we agreed on a concept, we each took a POV--CubbieGirl1723 writes Veronica and MarshmellowBobcat writes Logan. We outlined and wrote about a chapter per week. 
> 
> It was a lot of fun because our outlines were a bit vague at times like “Logan and Wallace bond” or “Jackie confronts V.” So reading what the other came up with was like a new Drabble everyday. 
> 
> Then we took turns writing and editing in each other’s sections to keep character voices and story arcs consistent. Co-writing provided awesome instant feedback and brought a new energy to the project. If you can find the right partner, we highly recommend it!
> 
> Special thanks to Chikabiddy who told us that Veronica had to earn her happiness and to NorCal91 who warned us regularly not to store condoms in a wallet or open them with your teeth! It’s not her fault if Veronica and Logan didn’t always listen. 
> 
> Thanks to CCS and CMackenzie for giving us insight into their co-writing process and for introducing us to OneNote! It’s an awesome tool. 
> 
> Thanks to Jmazzy for helping with Jackie’s ringtone in the elevator scene and generally being so encouraging to fic writers! She’s a fandom gem. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read this story and left us awesome comments! You made the process so much fun.


	15. News Bulletin

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/184370840@N04/48709465638/in/dateposted-public/)


	16. Invisible Details

As his current mission dictates, Clarence Wiedman watches Logan Echolls from a distance. The young man is the sun, pulling people to him, bestowing his favor upon those determined enough to earn his warmth, singeing those who don’t. Everything else is just shadows.

But that’s where Wiedman operates best, from the cool, dark cracks, too hidden for the sun to reach. 

And so he watches, as he’s watched for the past week, waiting for his opportunity. 

Today they’re teaching their African American friend how to surf. Their Mexican bulldog is standing guard, but Wiedman doesn’t necessarily need to get close to accomplish his goal. 

When three of the four are in the water, when the shades slip over Navarro’s eyes, he makes his move. 

He’s a ghost, invisible in the California sun. No one spots the man in the suit casually leaning on the car door. Who can see him past the yellow monstrosity anyway? No one notices his studied attention to the vehicle’s contents. And no one sees his eyes light on the phone shoved into the center cup holder. 

_ Teenage boys. So careless with their things. _

* * *

Ranging from excruciatingly detailed kill instructions to a simple name and location, Wiedman’s ease with cold, detached orders is a necessity for a trained sniper. 

And still, something about the layers of ice enc asing the rounded vowels of wealth in her tone sends a shiver down his spine. 

_ “Make sure the children are occupied. Call me when it’s done.” _

Following his commands with practiced stoicism, Wiedman opens the cellphone he cloned from Dick Casablancas. Calling up his best California surfer, he sends five text messages.

**Pool party at casa de echolls. Bring suits I got the snacks.**

He’s already added a box of chips, dips, and even beer to the Casablancas SUV. No one will question its origins. The advantages of group mentality. 

To Cassidy he adds:  **pack my suit bro**

_ That should keep them occupied and alibied.  _

He texts his boss:  **today** _.  _

* * *

 

In a dark corner of the  infamous  Echolls pool house, Wiedman watches through the window, and waits. If in the light he’s a ghost, than in the dark he’s smoke— imperceptible and deadly. 

It’s creeping up on 4pm, which means it’s time for Aaron to take his daily swim while Kendall Casablancas spreads her legs for the new tennis pro at the club. 

As his target dives gracefully into the deep end, Wiedman moves with nimble care to the pool’s edge. As he walks, he thinks of icing down the lifeless body of Lilly Kane. He thinks of the mischievous glint in her eyes, extinguished for eternity. He thinks of his own son, innocent and carefree. 

And he pulls the trigger. 

He calls her on his way out. “It’s done.”   
  


* * *

 

Celeste Kane clicks off the phone without a word. 

She takes a drag off her weekly cigarette, and revels in the blaze of the smoke as it caresses her throat and settles in her sternum. 

She chases it with a sip of whiskey, lets the liquid soothe the burn. Tries to grasp the illusion of warmth that blooms in its wake, but it’s fleeting. 

Lilly was a lot of things. Sometimes sweet, often an embarrassment, but she was  _ hers.  _

And with every press tour, every movie appearance, every “no comment,” her daughter becomes less hers, more entwined with her killer. And so, he had to die. For Lilly. 

A clean kill. No witnesses. No suspects. 

No more god forsaken trials, no more pornographic tapes of her only daughter passing hands, no more turning on the television to find her last name smeared all over the nightly news. 

_ It’s done.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to AmyPC for her beta work! Your thoughts are always appreciated and correct! Xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Chikabiddy, who’s deep understanding of Logan, Veronica, and the LoVe dynamic is invaluable to us. And to NorCal91, our grammar queen! Thanks for catching our many mistakes and knowing how to spell LeBaron. Any errors left are our own.


End file.
